Ghosts from the past
by popalot
Summary: Their lives were going good, until an unexpected "ghost" shows up to haunt them. Will Joe and George make it through these haunting? Will Frank and Nancy be able to help hold them together? I OWN NOTHING! Anette95 owns everything except, Nancy Drew, the Hardy boys, and their friends.
1. Shock

**I want to personally thank anette95 for letting me try to complete her story. The first 14 chapters ar hers. Hope ya'll enjoy.**

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**Chapter 1: Shock**

The fire was crackling softly and cozily in the simple, but elegant and comfortable living room. The two couples in the room were each busy on their own. These four people had been through a lot together, and despite their differences had stuck together like glue.

Snuggled under a blanket on the couch were the newlywed couple; Frank and Nancy Hardy. Each of them had a book, and they were getting a surprisingly large amount of reading done. Much to the amazement of the other couple in the room, they were not big on public displays of affection, even in front of family and close friends. When the couple was alone, however, it was a different matter entirely.

Frank, at 6'1'', was tall, dark and handsome with dark brown hair and chocolate colored eyes. He was slender, but surprisingly tough, and very intelligent. Nancy, also tall and slender, with her strawberry blonde hair and dark blue eyes was the exact opposite of her husband. They made a very attractive couple.

The other couple in the room also made an interesting pair. Georgia (nicknamed George) Fayne has boyishly short, curly brown hair and sharp green eyes. Her fiancé, Joe Hardy, has a thick mop of blonde hair and playful blue eyes that make most girls' hearts beat a little faster. George as well, but she would never admit it. She is well aware of her 6 foot flat beloved's flirty nature and although she trusts him completely, she considers it her duty to keep him down to earth. Their wedding is set for the first of May; in spring.

Neither Joe nor George had ever thought that they would fall in love with each other. They were never really each other's 'type'. Back in High School, Joe used to go for the cheerleader types while George preferred boys to whom sport was #1 on their list of priorities and academics #2. Nowadays though, they both had grown up and matured, and after Frank and Nancy's wedding they had spent a lot of time together. Nobody really knew how it happened, but one day the couple arrived at Nancy and Frank's house with faces that shone even brighter than the diamond ring on George's finger.

"Your turn, George," Joe's voice broke the momentary silence. He and George were sitting on the floor before the fire with the Monopoly board before them. Georges head snapped back from where she had been staring into the fire. Smiling sheepishly at her fiancé, she studied the board with a frown.

"That's not where I was a minute ago," she declared, staring suspiciously at Joe.

"What do you mean?" He wanted to know with his familiar butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth look on his face.

"I mean, that you moved me within range of the 'Go to Jail' block. I was 13 paces away, and now I am 10 paces away. That means that unless the doggie suddenly came alive – which I doubt for some reason – _you _moved me."

"What? Me?" He pretended to look offended. "Never! You must have miscounted."

"I did _not _mis_count_, Hardy," George said in a perfectly calm voice. Joe knew by now that when she used that voice, he had 2 options: One, come clean and beg for forgiveness with the famous Joe Hardy eyes, or two; distract her. Trying to worm himself out of 'situations' with George Fayne just doesn't work, and he learned that the hard way. She was not a policewoman for nothing.

Joe decided to use the latter option. "Does anybody want some hot cocoa or something?"

"No, thank you," George said without blinking, still staring at Joe with a challenging look in her eyes.

Starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable, Joe turned to his brother and sister in law hopefully. "Can I get you guys anything?"

"No thanks," came the reply simultaneously, without even a glance upwards from their books.

"I think I'm going to fix myself something," he stood up and started moving towards the kitchen quickly.

"You're going to have to come back sometime, Joe," George reminded him as he disappeared behind the door. Smiling, she shook her head and leaned back against the couch behind her, staring into the flames.

_Some things in nature are very hypnotizing_, she thought. _The waves of the ocean, the flames of a fire...and Joe Hardy's eyes._

_~ Ding-dong ~_

The sound of the doorbell startled George, and she looked away from the fire at her best friend.

"Who on earth can that be?" Nancy wondered. Laura and Fenton, her parents in law, were away visiting friends for the weekend, and nobody else had said anything about stopping over.

"I'll go see," George stood up and stretched her long, slender frame.

"Hey," she said when she opened the door. A young woman is stood on the other side, with long blonde hair, piercing black eyes and a tired look on her pale face. She had a petite frame, and seemed to be drowning in the overly large coat she had on. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Nancy Drew," her voice was so soft it was barely audible.

"This is the right place," George held the door open for her. "Please come in."

The girl, who looked no older than 21, stepped inside, her eyes darting around nervously.

"Can I take your coat?" George offered, and then hung it on the rack with the others. "Follow me, please."

The blonde girl followed George to the living room, where Joe was seated before the fire again; a large mug of steaming hot chocolate on the floor beside him. Smiling, George noticed that her Monopoly piece was moved back to its original position.

"Who was at the door?" Nancy asked, and then, spotting the girl just behind George, she jumped up and started walking over. "Hi, I'm Nancy Hardy."

"Nancy, this is..." George turned to look at the girl, realizing she forgot to ask her name. She frowned when she saw the look on the girl's face. She was even paler than before, and her eyes were big and round, darting from Frank to Joe.

Joe and Frank's expressions were similar. Surprise, shock, disbelief... Nancy and George looked at each other curiously. Who was this girl? And why did Frank and Joe look like they were seeing a ghost?

Finally Joe seemed to have gotten control over his vocal chords again, and a hoarse whisper escaped his lips.

"_Iola?"_


	2. Trouble

**Chapter 2: Trouble**

Joe's voice hung in the air like the echo of a gunshot. Nobody moved, or even breathed, for a few long seconds, and then the girl – Iola –smiled briefly.

"Hi, Joe." She looked straight at him. He was still sitting on the floor, the mug of hot chocolate miraculously still standing.

The athletic blonde guy, usually never at a loss for words, clearly did not know what to say. "I...I thought you were dead..." He finally stammered looking at her like he could not believe what he was seeing. Seven years ago, she died because of a car bomb. He saw the car wreck, heard the explosion. He was at her funeral, for crying out loud! Now, here she was, in his brother's living room, and very much alive, it seemed.

"Obviously not." Frank had stood up by now, and moved to stand next to his wife. Outwardly he appeared calm and collected, but inside he was confused, shocked...and a little angry. Recovering faster than his brother, he had realized that she didn't tell anybody about her being alive for seven years! She put them through the pain of losing her, and didn't even leave them a hint of hope.

"Maybe you better sit down," Nancy said softly. Like her husband, she quickly got her wits back and had a million questions for the unexpected visitor. Frank had, of course, told her all about Iola Morton and she was just as surprised as the brothers.

"Thank you." The girl moved towards the recliner and sat down, obviously feeling uncomfortable. Frank and Nancy retook their seats on of the couches, and Joe sat down on the other one. George sat next to him, and he grabbed her hand, holding onto it as if it were a lifeline.

"Can I get you anything to eat or drink?" Nancy questioned after a few seconds – ever the professional.

"No thank you," she shook her head.

Nobody knew what to say or do. A billion thoughts were going through each of their minds then.

_What are you supposed to do when your fiancé's old girlfriend suddenly comes back to life, the one he never really got over?_ George wondered. She couldn't help but feel a little scared. Sure, Joe was sitting next to her and holding her hand like he was never letting go, but she had a feeling of fear she couldn't seem to shake. _What if... No_. She chides herself mentally. _Joe wouldn't do that. He wouldn't leave me...he can't. I can't live without him!_

Joe was stunned beyond words. It felt like a dream, and he couldn't decide if it was a good dream or a nightmare. He should be overjoyed at seeing Iola again...so why isn't he? Why is he sitting here like a dummy clutching George's hand? _George_... He released his death grip on her hand a little as he became aware of her next to him. _George and Iola_... _They're the last people on this earth who were supposed to meet._

Nancy was turning the few facts she knew over in her mind. Iola was killed in a car bomb meant for Frank and Joe. They met the Gray Man, and discovered Iola was killed by the Assassins – a terrorist group. They tracked the Assassins, and eventually discovered their real target was the Bayport Mall. Joe nabbed the guy, but the Assassin fell to his death from the balcony. _Nobody takes an Assassin alive_. She shuddered when she remembered everything Frank told her.

_How can she be alive?_ Frank, every rational, was trying to make sense of what happened. _I saw the car, and the explosion...there was nothing left! What happened? Why didn't she tell anyone? Why is she suddenly 'rising from the dead' now?_

"I think you better tell us what happened...Iola." Nancy startled the others at the sound of her voice, but they were glad somebody decided to speak.

"Where should I begin?" she questioned softly.

"When you got the keys from Joe, remember? The day you supposedly died." Iola stared at Frank in surprise at the angry edge in his voice. Nancy gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Ok," she took a deep breath, and began. "Joe gave me the keys to the car, and I walked out the doors. Just before I could unlock the van, somebody grabbed me from behind and put a piece of cloth over my mouth; chloroform, I guess. I blacked out. When I woke up again, I was lying on a couch with my hands tied behind me."

"Wait a minute," Nancy interrupted her. "Frank told me there was a body in the car."

"I guess somebody took my place," she shrugged.

"A suicide bomber," George nodded. "Makes sense."

"What happened after you woke up?" Nancy urged her to keep talking.

"There were men in the room, talking in a strange language. When I woke up, one of them came over to me and pulled me upright so I was sitting. The leader –I think his name was Al-Rousasa – told me they planned to use me as bait to get to you."

"But why the bomb?" This time Frank interrupted.

"I'm getting to that," there was just a trace of annoyance in her voice, but she quickly covered it up by looking down at her hands again and fiddling nervously with her watch. George and Nancy looked at each other.

"He told me that the car bomb was just a distraction, to make you think I'm dead. They wanted to keep me for a few years, and then use me as leverage against you." She paused, taking another deep breath.

"But why did they want to wait? Why not use you immediately?" George wanted to know, puzzled.

"I'm not sure," Iola shrugged. "They didn't discuss all their plans with me."

"Go on," Frank said this time.

"They kept me locked up in a room for I don't know how long. I got regular meals, and I had plenty of books to read and DVD's to watch. I think I know every line of _Freaky Friday_," she gave a small, bitter laugh. "I must have been in that room for about a month."

"A month!?" Nancy exclaimed with surprise.

"Oh they let me out every afternoon, to take a walk through the garden, with two bodyguards. They were always with me; I couldn't even take a shower without one of them checking up on me every five minutes. One of the bodyguards was a woman," she added quickly when she saw the looks on their faces.

"After a month, I was pretty much fed up with the whole deal. I was making crazy plans to escape, but none of them were worth a shot. Then, one night, they woke me up and told me to get dressed; we had to leave. I realized that I was probably being rescued, and I tried everything to stall them. Eventually one of the guards grew angry and knocked me out with the butt of his gun."

Joe flinched inwardly.

"When I woke up again, we were on a plane," she drew in a breath, and then continued, "They gave me a complete makeover. Dyed my hair blonde, gave me brown contacts, the works. They even gave me a nose job." Unconsciously she reached up and touched her nose. "Then they gave me a new ID; Laura Brown. It felt like I was in the Witness Protection Program, only I wasn't a witness, nor was I being 'protected'."

She gave a bitter laugh, and then continued. "I stayed with them for almost seven years. I lived an almost normal life; I had 'friends' – who were mostly Assassins in disguise – and went to school and college. Ironically, I majored in law."

When she paused, George said, "So what happened?"

"One night I overheard my 'guardian' talking with another Assassin; they were making plans." She took turns looking both brothers in the eye. "Plans for revenge."

"Against us?" Frank questioned, just a little surprised.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding her head.

"But why now?" Nancy was puzzled. "It's been seven years already!"

"Yes," Iola agreed. "I wondered about that too."

"I think I know," George said, thoughtfully. "Frank is married, and Joe is engaged."

"What?" The words slipped from Iola's lips, and she turned pale.

"I'm engaged to George," Joe said softly. George couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He must be so confused.

"And I got married to Nancy," Frank explained. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable. Callie was Iola's best friend.

"What about Callie?" Iola asked, frowning.

"She broke up with me almost two years ago, a few months before I met Nancy." Frank paused, deciding to steer the conversation back on track. "But what does the fact that we're married and engaged have to do with anything?"

Nancy answered; "You've got more to lose now; revenge would be easier. And better – from their point of view." She shuddered.

"What exactly were their plans, Iola?" George asked the girl. The name tasted bitter on her tongue, and she was surprised. She hardly knew this girl, so why did she dislike her so much?

"I'm not sure," Iola replied, frustrated. "I only overheard part of their conversation; then I heard someone coming and I had to move. I escaped two days later."

"How?" Nancy asked, and Iola looked at her.

"I was at a football match. Usually they don't let me go to things like that since it's too crowded, but the guy who was supposed to be watching me has two great weaknesses; football and pretty girls. I convinced him that the cheerleaders were the hottest he'll ever see, and finally he gave in. When we got there I pretended I had to go to the bathroom, and then I waited until he started talking to a cheerleader and slipped out." She shook her head. "I can't believe I got away that easily!"

_Me neither,_ George thought but dismissed the idea.

"After that, I got in a taxi and lay low for a few days in motels and so on. Sorry Joe," Iola smiled at her ex-boyfriend, "no car-chases or gunfights. I had a bit of money saved, so I used that to buy disguises. I didn't want to go to Frank and Joe since that's the first place they'll look for me. So I heard about Nancy Drew, the famous detective and I thought she might be able to help me. I went to her house, and a Mrs. Grueen told me to come here. I was a bit surprised that she also lived in Bayport but I didn't put two and two together. So I came here, and well, you know the rest."

After a while, Nancy asked; "Why did you come to me, Iola? What can I do?"

"I'm not sure," the girl looked tired, as if exhausted from telling the story. "I figured you might be able to help me get into the Witness Protection Program or something."

"What about the police?" George wanted to know. Something seemed odd to her, but she wasn't sure what.

"I can't go to them. There are Assassins everywhere."

"What made you so sure that Nancy's not one?"

"They talked about her a few times, and they didn't seem to like her very much so I figured it was safe."

"They talked about me?" Nancy looked at Frank, feeling uncomfortable. What did they know about her?

"Yes, and I once saw a file lying on my 'guardian's' desk with your name on it. It was pretty thick."

"Wait a minute..." George suddenly jumped up anxiously. "You said that they would probably come looking for you at Frank and Joe's house, right?"

"Yes..." Puzzled, the girl fidgeted with her watch again.

"Well, if they're half as informed as I think they are," George moved to the window and looked out into the street, "They probably know where Frank lives now. And that means..."

Before she could finish the sentence, Frank and Joe jumped up and rushed to the window

"I think I better call for back-up," Nancy said, picking up the portable phone and dialing the police department's number.

George walked over to Iola, who looked very scared. "Listen to me. Did you see any suspicious vehicles on your way –?"

"_Get down_!" Frank's frantic voice made everybody fall down on the floor immediately. The window shattered as bullets from a machine gun smashed into the opposite wall, the furniture, and the ornaments. Joe's long-forgotten hot chocolate smashed and spilled all over the Monopoly board.

"Joe!" George called over the noise, desperately hoping he wasn't hurt since he was standing next to the window.

There was no answer.


	3. Chase

**Chapter 3: Chase**

"Joe!" George called again as the noise of the machine gun and shattering glass stopped. She climbed off Iola and, still on the floor, started crawling over to Joe, who was lying next to the window on the other side of the couch.

"Stay where you are, George," Frank warned her. "I'm closer."

"Is everyone ok?" Nancy asked, concerned, but before anyone could answer, the front door burst open. Three men with guns and ski-masks over their faces appeared in the door of the living room.

"Behave yourselves, and nobody will die. At least, not today." The voice was rough and threatening, but with a sadistic hint of amusement in the last sentence. "Get up and face the wall."

The girls all stood up and did what he said. Frank hesitated, staying next to his brother. Joe had not moved.

"You too, Hardy," The man growled menacingly.

"He's hurt," Frank growled back. George glanced over to Joe and inhaled sharply. He was lying on the floor with a puddle of blood slowly forming around his head. _Dear God, please let him be ok..._

"Well, isn't that a shame," the man said sarcastically, and then pointed the gun at Frank's head and shouted, "Move!"

"Frank, just do what he says," Nancy's voice sounded calm, but her heart was racing. When Frank looked into her pleading eyes, he slowly moved over to his wife with a last look at his little brother.

"Now place your hands on the wall," the man continued, and then said to one of the others, "Get her."

The other man moved forward and grabbed at Iola, quickly tying her hands behind her back.

"Let me go!" She screamed, struggling.

"Be quiet!" The man snapped.

"Now," the leader of the group said again, "If anybody moves out of the door before we're out of sight of the house, Ms. Morton dies. Understood?"

And just like that, they were gone. The moment the front door slammed shut behind them, George rushed over to Joe.

"Oh no..." she felt a lump in her throat as she looked at Joe's white face, covered in blood.

"I can't see them anymore," Frank stated, looking out onto the street. "We better hurry if we want to go after them." Then he looked at his brother, and hesitated.

Nancy looked up at him from where she was kneeling next to Joe. "You and George go – I'll stay with Joe and get an ambulance."

"But..." George protested.

"George, there is nothing you can do for him," Nancy said quickly, sensing they needed to hurry. "I have more first-aid training than you. Go!"

With one last worried look at her fiancé, she jumped up and ran with Frank to the front door, grabbing her jacket and the gun holster on the way out the door.

"We'll use my car," she said, taking the keys out of her pocket. Before she started the car, she took a GPS out of the glove compartment and handed it to Frank. "I put a tracking device on Iola when we were on the floor. I thought something like this might happen. See if you can spot them."

Frank smiled slightly and shook his head, expertly pushing a few buttons as they roared out of the driveway.

"Ok, got them. Take a left on the next street. We can try heading them off."

"Do you think we should call for back-up?" George wanted to know, turning left sharply.

"Right at the next light. I don't know," Frank pondered, "If this is like the last time, the Assassins have probably infiltrated the police. Dad has a plane to catch to New York in..." he checked his watch, "15 minutes, so we can't call him."

"I can think of only one person who can help us now." George said while making a sharp right turn that made Frank nervously reach for his seatbelt. He was used to Joe's crazy driving, but compared to George her fiancé's driving was like a cruise through a park.

"Who?" He asked, the seatbelt making a satisfactory click.

"Think. Who else knows everything about Iola and the Assassins?"

A look of realization crossed Franks face, and he and George said at the same time. "The Gray Man."

"Of course," Frank said, "Why didn't I think of him?"

"Too busy worrying about being driven by a woman," George teased.

Frank shot her a look and said, "You're getting more like my brother every day."

George bit her lip as she thought of Joe, and sent another quick prayer heavenward.

"Where are they?" She asked Frank.

"About half a mile away. We can head them off on Church Street."

"Have you got your gun?"

"No," Frank says, frustrated. "There wasn't time to get it."

"I have an extra one in the glove compartment." As Frank got it, she continued. "Uh...just what exactly are we going to do when we get to them? The odds are not exactly in our favor."

"You're the cop, you figure it out." Suddenly Frank sat upright and, staring at the GPS, said quickly, "They changed their course, turn left! They're in the next street."

George turned so fast the car was on two wheels for a few seconds, and then they were in the next street. The only car was a fast-moving van, coming straight at them!

George parked the car sideways so it blocked the road and then jumped out while yelling at Frank to do the same.

They went to opposite sides of the road, each drawing their gun. The driver of the van tried to brake and turn, but he was already too close and the van screeched to a halt inches from George's car.

She ran to the driver's window and pointed her gun at him. "Get out of the van, now!" she demanded, using what Joe called her no-nonsense cop-voice.

The man glared at her, but opened the door nonetheless. "Put your hands on the back of your neck." When he did this, she quickly slapped on a pair of cuffs and puts his gun in her own pocket. She saw that Frank had the other guy in a similar situation, with his own pair of cuffs.

That left only the other...

"Drop your gun now, or the girl dies."

George looked up to the now-opened door of the van, straight into the eyes of the third Assassin. She recognized the voice as the same one who was the leader when they kidnapped Iola. He had one hand around Iola's throat, and with the other he was holding a gun to her head. Furious with herself, George dropped the gun on the road.

"Now the other one." As she did that as well, he smiled slightly. "Good."

Frank saw what was happening through the window, and – after giving his guy a blow to the head that would leave him unconscious for a while – tried to sneak around to the back of the van. But before he could get very far he was stopped by the Assassin's voice.

"Stop right there, Hardy."

Frank was forced to go to the front of the van and join George.

"What are you planning to do with us?" He asked the man, who was now standing on the pavement, still holding a gun to a terrified Iola's head.

"With you?" He looked at Frank, smiling menacingly. "Nothing. I don't have any orders concerning you." Then he turned to George, and looked her up and down thoroughly. The look on his face sent shivers up her spine. "But, with her... It is quite another story."

"If you lay a finger on me..."

Before George could finish the sentence, he interrupted her. "You're going to do what? Let your fiancé kill me? I don't think so. Last I checked he wasn't in a position of hurting anybody. That is, if he is still alive."

George paled at the thought.

Suddenly the almost deserted road was filled with headlights as cars streamed in from both ends. The man was obviously startled, and he let the gun lower for a few seconds. That's all it took for Frank to give him a flying tackle, while George grabbed Iola away from him at the same time.

The Assassin was face-down on the road with his hands secure behind his back. When Frank tackled him he had hit his head on the pavement, and was out cold for a little while. Frank stood up and, keeping one eye on the guy he pinned down, turned to see who exactly had such perfect timing.

He looked directly at a middle-aged, medium-sized man with a normal face and no expression whatsoever in his grey eyes. "Good evening, Frank."

"Why am I not surprised?" Frank shook his head, taking the outstretched hand of an old ally; Arthur E. Gray - more commonly known as the Gray Man.

"If I am not mistaken, that is an Assassin you have there," he said dryly, pointing to the man on the road.

"Yeah..."

"Then you might want to check for cyanide capsules."

"Darn, of course," Frank quickly bent down and pried open the man's mouth. In a few moments he had a false tooth in his hand. "George, check that guy of yours, quickly!"

"It's too late," she called back, walking over to them with Iola next to her. "The one on the other side of the van is dead too."

"Well, at least we have one guy to take in for questioning." The Gray Man stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought. Then he turned to George.

"George, this is Arthur Gray," Frank introduced him. "Mr. Gray, this is..."

"Detective Georgia Fayne of River Heights Police Department, and the fiancé of Joe Hardy." When she stared at him, he explained with a small shrug, "We keep up to date on the Hardy's."

"Okay..." George nodded as she digested this.

"How did you..." Frank started, but the Gray Man interrupted him.

"You can ask me questions later, but right now we have to get going to the hospital."

"The hospital?" George said as she, Frank and Iola – who was speechless from shock, it seemed – followed the Gray Man to his nearby car. "So he's alive?"

"Of course he's alive! We're talking about Joe Hardy here."

_Thank you, Jesus_... George breathed a sigh of relief as they took off in the direction of the hospital.


	4. Talking

**Chapter 4: Talking**

On the way to the hospital, The Gray Man filled them in on how and why he knew about what happened.

It seemed that Nancy, after calling an ambulance for Joe, came to the same realization as George and called the Gray Man. When she and Frank first got married, he had her memorize Mr. Gray's direct number and the secret code they used in case somebody else was listening in.

"Gray Repair Services, how may I help you," a flat voice had come over the line.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gray. This is Nancy Hardy speaking. My washing machine needs some repair, it seems. It's making a very odd noise and won't work; I don't know what's wrong with it." Translated, it meant that Joe – the washing machine – was hurt. Not knowing what is wrong, meant that it is an unusual situation that they don't have a secret code for.

"I see. How soon do you require help?"

"As soon as possible. I've had some _unexpected guests_ so I have a lot of washing to do."

The Gray Man had arrived with a few other cars in a matter of minutes. After Nancy explained the situation to him briefly, he told her to wait at the hospital and then was gone with a squeal of tires. He left two men with Nancy as protection, just in case.

On the way to the hospital, George and Frank gave him the details that Nancy left out in her hurry. When they finished, he was silent. George looked at him in an effort to gather what he was thinking, but his face was as empty as a swimming pool in the winter.

"MS Morton, after we drop these two off at the hospital, I need you to come with me to headquarters for questioning."

"Questioning?" Iola's voice was nervous.

"It's standard procedure. We need to find out as much as possible about the Assassins plans, methods, etc. You were with them for seven years, weren't you?"

"Yes," she admitted in a scared voice.

"Good." The Gray Man turned his eyes back to the road and did not say anything for the rest of the drive.

When they reached the hospital, George jumped out of the car almost before it stopped moving, and ran into the waiting area. Frank stayed just a few seconds longer to thank Mr. Gray, before following George.

Nancy was waiting for them there, and met them with a reassuring smile.

"Where's Joe?" George asked urgently. "How is he?"

"He's going to be okay," Nancy said with a smile. "He wasn't shot."

"He wasn't?" Frank and George exclaimed at the same time.

"No. When he saw the gun he jumped down, and bumped his head against that heavy table next to the window. He was out cold." Nancy laughed lightly.

"But what about all the blood?" George wanted to know, very relieved.

"That was from the glass, he got cut up a bit. Nothing too bad though. He just needed a couple of stitches. So, except for a bump on the head, a few cuts and a much bruised ego, he is fine. Doc said he can go home today."

"Where is he?" George asked again, smiling this time.

"Just down the hall. Come on, I'll take you to him."

Joe was sitting up in bed, a very grumpy look on his face. His face and head were covered in bandages, but his bright blue eyes lit up when he spotted his brother and fiancé.

"Hey guys," he said, sitting up. "Did you catch them?"

"Hey Joe," George went to sit on bench beside Joe's bed after giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Yeah, we got 'em."

George and Frank quickly filled Joe in on what happened while he was out cold.

"Oh," Joe said when he heard Iola went to Network Headquarters. "I guess I...we'll see her later, then."

George frowned slightly, and felt a pang of jealousy. _Stop it, George!_ She scolded herself mentally. _He hasn't seen the girl in seven years. He missed her_. Still, she had the same uneasy feeling from earlier in the pit of her stomach.

"Well, I don't know about you guys," Joe said, throwing off the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, "but I'm out of here. You know I hate hospitals."

After getting Joe's release papers from the nurse, they got into Nancy's car and drove home. George's car was still back at the place where they met the Gray Man, and he had promised that one of his agents would bring the car over to Nancy and Frank's house.

"Frank, I don't want to sound paranoid," Nancy said after a while, looking into the side mirror, "but I think somebody is following us."

Looking in the rear-view mirror, Frank noticed a white Toyota Corolla a fair distance behind them, but no other traffic. He slowed down considerably, but the car – instead of passing him – slowed down as well.

"I think you're right," he observed to Nancy. "It seems we've grown a tail, guys."

"Try wagging it-" Joe piped up from the backseat, where he was sitting with his arm around George, but was interrupted by everyone saying, "- and see what happens."

"That's getting a little old, Joe," George sighed, hitting him in the arm. He just smiled at her sheepishly.

Frank suddenly took a sharp right turn, throwing Joe on top of George. "Ouch!" She yelped, pushing him off. "You should really start wearing a seatbelt, Joe."

"I don't know," he said cheekily, still leaning over her. He whispered in her neck, "I rather like falling all over you."

George turned bright red and quickly looked to see if Frank and Nancy noticed. They did, but keep their comments to themselves.

"Well I like it too, but unfortunately you weight a ton, so get off." After a quick kiss to her neck, Joe returned to his own seat and fastened his seatbelt, a wide grin on his face.

"He's still following us," Frank said. "I'm going to try and shake him off. Hold on, everybody!"

During the next few minutes Frank took them through a series of crazy turns and twists that left everyone feeling a little car-sick, Joe more than the others, but the car was still following them. Frank was getting worried.

"Don't you think maybe we should just stop and face them?" Joe wanted to know hopefully, his eyes dazed.

Before Frank could answer, Nancy's cell phone started ringing. When she took it out of her purse, she frowned.

"Who is it?" George questioned.

"I don't know; it's a private number." Nancy pressed the answer button and put the phone on speaker before answering. "Hello?"

"Nancy, this is Arthur Gray. Would you please stop trying to shake off my men?" His voice was fairly blank, as usual, but there was a trace of amusement.

"Y-your men?" Nancy said, feeling very sheepish.

"Yes. I told them to follow you home, just for extra security."

"What, you don't think we can take care of ourselves?" Joe piped up indignantly.

"Against anyone else I would say yes, Joe, but we're dealing with the Assassins. You can never be too cautious."

"Oh."

"Thanks for letting us know, Mr. Gray." Frank said, smiling. "If you hadn't we'd have continued trying to shake them all the way to New York."

"No problem."

When Nancy returned the phone to her purse, everyone started laughing.

"Well," Nancy remarked between chuckles, "I guess I _was_ just being paranoid!"

"What a mess," Joe remarked when they entered the living room. Bullets were stuck in the walls, broken glass was everywhere, and there was blood on the floor where Joe had been.

"Well," Nancy sighed, "I guess we better start cleaning this up. George, do you want to get any pictures of this?"

"Sure. I'll go get my camera."

A few hours later, after the living room was fairly cleaned up, the Gray Man and Iola showed up.

"So, what's our next step?" Frank asked when they were all seated in the living room.

"Well, for now we'll presume they don't know that we know they're planning revenge. As far as we know, they have no idea Ms. Morton overheard them," the Gray Man said, looking at Iola. She looked whiter than usual, and tired. "So, we'll act inside that context. I will post a few men in the area as security, and set up surveillance cameras and bugs throughout the house."

"I figured as much," Frank sounded a bit impatient, "What I really meant, is what our plan of action is? What are we going to do?"

"_You _are not going to do anything," the Gray Man said firmly. "This is Network business. I want your family out of the way." Glancing at George, he added, "And that includes you, Ms. Fayne."

"With all due respect, Mr. Gray, that's ridiculous," Nancy frowned. "Frank, Joe and I are all three professional private investigators. George is a cop. Frank and Joe have both dealt with the Assassins before and George and I have been in a lot of dangerous situations that we got out of. All of us are more than qualified to help, so I hardly think we'll be 'in the way'."

"I'm not worried about that, Mrs. Hardy," the Gray Man said, shifting in his seat. "I'm worried about your safety. The Assassins are out for revenge, and they will be watching your every move. They will waste no opportunity to hurt you or your family."

"If they wanted to kill us, they would have done so already," George spoke up.

"Yes, they would have," he agreed. "That's why I don't think they're planning on killing you. My guess would be something worse. Think about it; what would hurt Frank and Joe here more – if you were dead, or if you were alive but they didn't know where you were, or what was happening to you?"

"I agree with him, Nancy," Frank said after a pause in which everybody considered Mr. Gray's words. "I would much rather have you safe."

Nancy glared at him. "I knew something like this might happen. A woman is good enough to be a detective and do dangerous things when she is single, but the moment she says 'I do' she isn't anymore! Then she has to stay at home and clean house and do laundry and make dinner, while her husband is off chasing after terrorists."

"Nancy, calm down..." Frank said in a calming voice, which – unfortunately – only aggravated Nancy more. "That's not what I meant..."

"Frank and Joe are not going to have anything to do with this, either," The Gray Man decided to interject before Nancy had a chance to build up more steam.

"What?" Frank and Joe exclaimed at the same time, frowning.

Nancy leaned back against the couch, folded her arms and gave her husband a smug smile. "I agree with him, Frank," she echoed his words from earlier. "I would much rather have you safe."

_~ beep beep ~_

"That's my beeper." The Gray Man stood up and walked over to the window and quickly spoke into his phone. When he finished, he turned back to the others and said, "I have to go now. I'll be back tomorrow at nine, then we can discuss this further."

Without another word he was gone, leaving the Hardy's, George and Iola behind in the living room in an awkward silence.


	5. Feelings

**Chapter 5: Feelings**

Dinner that evening was a silent affair. Nobody really knew what to say. Frank and Joe were still trying to come to terms with the fact that Iola was alive, while George did not know whether to be glad or angry for their sakes, or jealous or worried for her own. The only one thinking rationally was Nancy.

She realized that the Gray Man had a point; it would be dangerous too help to with the investigation, but she also knew that there was no way she could just stand by and do nothing. She looked up at Iola. The girl looked terribly uncomfortable, and kept sneaking glances towards Joe and George. Nancy couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for her, even though she was more worried about her best friend.

"So, Iola," Nancy suddenly said, startling everybody. "What did your family say when they realized you were still alive?"

"My family?" She squeaked.

"Yeah. You know; your parents, Chet." Frank looked at her strangely, and then frowned when she did not answer. "Surely you went to them first?"

"Actually, I didn't," she said nervously. "I… I was afraid. I mean, I was gone for seven years."

"So instead you went to a total stranger's house?" George asked suspiciously. "I'm sorry, but if I were you I would have gone straight to my mother."

"Guys, cut her some slack, ok?" Joe suddenly spoke up, sounding slightly annoyed. "All you've been doing this whole time is picking on her!" He abruptly stood up and stalked off. Everyone stared after him, slightly shocked.

"Let me go talk to him," Iola said and made as if to stand up.

"No, I'll go," George protested.

"But it's because of me he's upset," Iola argued, her voice pleading.

"But I'm engaged to him," George glared at Iola.

"Only because he didn't know I was alive!"

George drew back sharply as if she had been slapped.

"Calm down, both of you!" Nancy said in a stern voice. She looked at Frank, surprise on both of their faces. Then she looked back at the two girls. "If anybody should go talk to him it's Frank."

The newly volunteered spokesperson almost ran out of the room, shooting his wife a grateful look.

"Iola," Nancy said her voice very calm. "I think it's best if you go now. We're all tired, and we'll talk better in the morning."

"Go where?" Iola asked, looking ready to cry. "I don't have anywhere to go."

Nancy sighed and rubbed her temples. She had forgotten about that. Then she came to a decision. "Frank's right, you know. You should let your family know. I'll call them now, and you can spend the night with them."

Iola looked reluctant, but finally agreed. George still had not said anything. Nancy, who knew her well, could sense she felt like crying and came to her rescue.

"Meanwhile, you can wait in the living room while George and I clean up here." When Iola was gone, Nancy turned to her best friend with a concerned gaze. "George? Are you ok?"

When the green eyed girl shook her head, Nancy sighed. "I'm going to call the Morton's, and then I'll be right back, ok?"

While dialing the number, Nancy put the kettle on to boil and got two mugs out. Eventually somebody answered. "Hi, Chet? It's Nancy here… No, we're all fine… It's on the news already? What does it say? ...Oh… Yeah, I'll tell you about it later. Listen; are your parents at home? ...Good. Do you think you can all quickly come over? It's quite urgent…I'll tell you when you get here. Just come prepared for a shock, ok? ...No, I can't tell you over the phone…No, I'm not pregnant with triplets…Nor with twins or in any other way either...Yes…Okay, I'll see you later. Bye."

Nancy brought the two mugs of hot chocolate over to the table and set one down in front of George. She sat down next to her. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked gently.

George took a sip of cocoa. "I'm scared, Nan," she said, looking at her friend with a look that tugged on Nancy's heart. "What if he leaves me? What if he goes back to Iola? I… I can't live without him, Nancy. You know me; I didn't want to fall in love with him in the first place. Too scared to get hurt. And now…" She shuddered. Nancy felt for her; George was not a person to love easily. But once she decided that she loved somebody, she did so with her whole heart.

"George, do you believe that Joe loves you?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

"Then why are you worried?" Nancy smiled.

"Because he loved Iola first." George looked at Nancy with such pain in her eyes, that Nancy could do nothing but hold her friend as she cried against her shoulder.

After searching almost everywhere, Frank eventually found his brother outside, on the back porch. Slipping on a heavy jacket, he opened the door and went outside into the icy cold. Joe merely glanced up from his seat on the swing.

"Here you are," Frank said as he sat down next to his brother. "I was looking for you."

"I was hoping you would win the 'who gets to go after Joe' fight," the younger guy said wryly.

Frank smiled. "Actually Nancy won, and then sent me. To tell the truth, I was glad to get out of there. Catfights are not nice."

"Yeah." Joe stared into the dark for a while, not saying anything. Frank remained quiet as well, knowing that if his little brother wanted to talk he would.

"You know," Joe said after a while, "I do not have a _clue_ what to do." He looked at his brother, frustration evident on his face. Frank did not know what to say, so he remained quiet. Sure enough, Joe continued. "I was convinced that Iola was the girl for me, you know? I was so in love with her I didn't know what to do with myself. I even brought her a ring, did you know that?" Joe sighed impatiently and pulled his hand through his hair, then winced when he touched the cut on his forehead. "It took me six years to get over her, Frank. Six years! I finally put her behind me. Then I meet this wonderful woman, and I fall for her. So hard, in fact, that I forget all about Iola. Eventually I get the courage to ask George to marry me, and she says yes. I even give her the ring I bought for Iola. I'm happier than I've been in seven years. And then, whoosh, everything gone in a single moment!"

Joe leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "I really love George, you know."

"I know," Frank answered softly, thinking of the past few months. Anybody who knew Joe could see that George made him happier than he had been since Iola's death. Apparent death.

"The problem is, I loved Iola as well."

Frank looked at his brother in surprise. "Do you still love her?" He asked carefully.

"I don't know!" Joe said in frustration, his voice raising a notch or two. He stood up from the swing and paced back and forth on the porch. "I feel guilty that I'm even considering still having feelings for her, and then I feel guilty that I'm considering _not_ having feelings for her! It's so messed up."

"Joe," Franks began, carefully choosing his words, "as far as you knew, the girl was dead. You had and have every right to want to marry somebody else. If Iola is still the same person she used to be, she should understand that. But what about George?"

Before Joe could answer, the sound of a car driving into the driveway interrupted them.

"Come on, let's go see who that is," Frank said as he stood up. Back in the house, he met Nancy on the way to the front door. Joe went into the kitchen, mumbling something about a glass of water.

"Frank, it's the Mortons," Nancy said as she saw her husband.

His eyes popped wide open. "_What?_"

"Shhh!" She smiled, placing a finger over his lips as she came closer. She continued softly; "I called them. No, they don't know about Iola yet, but we have to tell them. I told her to wait upstairs until I call her. George also went to bed, since she isn't feeling too well."

Frank swallowed and looked up as the doorbell rang. "I guess you're right. But you have to tell them. You're better at this kind of stuff than I am."

"All right," she agreed. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and went to open the front door. "But you're going to owe me!"

_Fine by me_, Frank thought as he watched his pretty young wife welcome the Mortons. She ushered them into the living room. Joe arrived as well, and his already pale face became even whiter as he saw who the visitors were.

"No thank you, dear," Mrs. Morton said when Nancy offered them something to drink. At almost fifty she was still a beautiful woman, but the lines around her eyes bore witness to the great sadness of the past few years. "Now, Chet said this was urgent?"

"Yes ma'am." Nancy looked at Frank, who sat down next to her. "What I have to tell you will be a great shock to you. It's not bad news, and I believe that you will be very happy about it once you get over the initial…shock." Nancy swallowed.

"Nancy, just spit it out already," Chet said impatiently. At twenty-five, he was considerably less chubby than when he was younger; a result of hard work on the farm. Since Mr. Morton's stroke three years ago, which left him weak and unable to talk, Chet had been running the farm.

"Okay," Nancy said slowly. "We have some news about…Iola."

"What?" Chet asked. "What kind of news?"

"She's alive."

Mr. and Mrs. Morton both turned pale and sagged against their chairs. Chet's eyes almost popped out of his head as he let loose a deafening, _**"What?!"**_

"Chet, calm down," Frank said calmly. His friend, however, would not be calmed.

"How do you know this? What happened? Where is she?" Chet's face was red and his voice loud.

"Chet, will you just calm down?" Frank said firmly. Chet finally sat down. "Now if you'll be quiet and let my wife speak, you'll have an answer for your questions."

"I realize this is a big shock for you," Nancy said, inwardly wincing as she counted how many times she had used that word already. She quickly told them the basics; Iola was abducted by the Assassins, she managed to escape recently, and then she showed up on their doorstep. The Assassins soon followed, which is why there was a shooting on the news. She left out the part about revenge, however, and tried to cover up the fact that Iola did not even consider going to her parents first.

"So where is she now?" Mrs. Morton asked in a soft, tired voice after Nancy finished. "Can I see her?"

"She's here," Nancy said gently. "Shall I go call her?"

When Mrs. Morton nodded, Nancy stood up and returned a few moments later with Iola right behind her.

"Iola… my baby!" Mrs. Morton ran to her daughter's side and clung to her, tears streaming down her face. Nancy had to brush a few tears of her own away when she saw the other members of the family's reactions. She signaled to Frank and Joe, who got the hint and followed her to the kitchen.

They sat around the kitchen table in silence for a while. Then Chet came in, his eyes slightly red.

"I uh… I just want to say thanks, guys. For letting us come here and everything. Sorry I freaked out in there," he smiled sheepishly.

"No problem, buddy," Frank said.

"We're going home now. We uh…" Chet obviously didn't know what to say, so Nancy came to his rescue.

"Drive safely, Chet."

"Thanks. Night, everyone."

After the Mortons left, Nancy yawned. "You know what would be a really good idea now? Going to bed."

"Couldn't agree more," Frank said and he and Joe stood up simultaneously. Frank pulled Nancy up from her chair and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Night, guys," Joe said and made his exit.

"I'm just going to lock up," Frank said as he and Nancy walked out of the kitchen, turning off the light with his free hand.

"Okay. I'm quickly going to check on George. Poor thing, it's really hard for her."

"Yeah," Frank agreed, frowning. "It's tough on Joe, too."

"I wish we could help them somehow, but I don't know how," Nancy told Frank.

"All we can do is pray, I guess," Frank said. "It's in the Lord's hands."

Nancy looked up at her husband and smiled, love in her eyes. "This is why I love you so much."

"Really?" Frank said in mock surprise. "I thought it's because I'm so handsome and smart!"

Nancy just laughed and, with a kiss on his cheek, went upstairs.

George was already fast asleep when Nancy softly pushed open the bedroom door. There were tear marks on her face, and even while sleeping she looked sad. Nancy fondly brushed a curl from her face, and closed her eyes.

"Lord, please help her," she prayed softly. "Help all of us."


	6. Discussions

**Chapter 6: Discussions**

When Nancy woke up the next morning, the sun was already streaming in through the window. She was still tired, though – the previous day had been a very long one. She snuggled deeper into the blankets and turned on her side. She blushed when she found Frank staring at her with a smile on his face.

"Morning," she mumbled sleepily.

"Morning, beautiful," he greeted her in return. He shifted slightly, and wrapped his arm around Nancy, pulling her close. He was nice and warm, and she snuggled into him, neither of them saying anything. They simply enjoyed being close to one another.

With her head on Frank's chest and her arm around his waist, Nancy almost dozed off to sleep again. A little while later she suddenly asked; "What time is it?"

Frank turned his head to glance at the bedside clock. "A little before 8."

"What?" Nancy raised her head in surprise. "I guess I should get up then…"

"What for?" Frank protested, pulling her back down.

"To make breakfast, of course."

"Shhh," Frank said, putting a finger on her lips. "Listen."

"To what? I don't hear anything," Nancy said, surprised.

"Exactly," Frank grinned. "That means nobody else is up yet. You want to wake up my brother and George by banging pots and pans around? Besides, they know where the cereal is."

"I guess," Nancy relented, and smiled. "And this _is_ kind of nice, you know."

"Why do you think I don't want you to get up?" Frank laughed softly and kissed Nancy's strawberry blonde hair.

"Well, we can't stay in bed the whole day," Nancy teased, looking up into her husband's eyes.

"And why not?" Frank wanted to know.

"Because you brother and my best friend are in the house." Nancy's eyes widened. "And because Mr. Gray said he was coming at nine! Shucks, now I _have_ to get up."

Frank sighed as Nancy jumped out of bed, mumbling something inaudible. Nancy could guess what it was about though, and laughed. "I promise, sometime during the holidays I'll spend a whole day just lying in your arms."

Frank brightened, and came over to Nancy. "Really?"

"Yep. Although you might become bored after a few hours," she teased.

"Well," Frank said as he wrapped his arms around Nancy's waist from behind, and kissed her neck, "I wouldn't count on that!"

"Frank Hardy, you are terrible!" Nancy said, and then wrinkled her nose in disgust. "As well as your breath! Go get dressed, and brush your teeth."

"Oh really? My breath smells terrible?" Frank growled playfully, and started tickling her. "You're going to pay for that!"

The sounds of Nancy's laughter woke George up. She smiled, and stretched. She felt much better than the previous day. A good night's sleep had cleared her mind a lot. She had come to the realization that, if Joe really loved her, he would stay with her. And if he chose Iola – well, as long as he was happy she could live with it. It might not be easy, but she could live with it.

In his own room, Joe was far from any realizations. He was still just as confused as the previous night, although slightly less tired and more clear of mind. He decided to let the matter rest, for a while, and focus on more important matters. That being the case, he jumped out of bed and walked over to the main bedroom, where Nancy's and Frank's laughter could still be heard.

He knocked on the door loudly and yelled; "Hey! I'm starving! Will you two quit whatever it is you're doing in there and fix me some breakfast?"

He laughed loudly amidst various indignant threats and promises being made to him. He turned to find George staring at him from her bedroom door, a smile on her face.

"Morning, gorgeous," he grinned as he came over. George's hair was messed up from sleep, but her eyes were bright and clear. His heart skipped a beat as her smile widened.

"Hey," she greeted in return, accepting his good morning kiss. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, considering." He shrugged, and then looked his fiancée in the eyes seriously. "Listen, I just want you to know… The next couple of weeks, or months, might be tough, but we'll get through it somehow. And always remember; I love you."

George's eyes softened. "I love you too," she murmured.

"Good," Joe grinned, his playful mood back. "Now, what's for breakfast?"

"Nothing for you," Nancy huffed as she walked past. "Not when you insult your host and hostess like that!"

Joe followed Nancy downstairs, protesting all the way. George couldn't help but smile.

There were no smiles an hour later, however, when the Gray Man and the four young people were seated in the living room. The Gray Man looked serious, and everyone felt tense. Some agents had arrived with him, and were busy installing cameras and bugs everywhere.

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Nancy asked, wincing as she heard holes being drilled into a wall somewhere in her new house.

"Yes," Mr. Gray answered. "We don't know what the Assassins are up to, and until we do it is better to be safe than sorry. I assume Miss Morton will be staying with you?"

"Actually she went home with her family," Nancy said, looking at George. "I don't know if it would be such a good idea to let her stay here…"

"Why not?" Mr. Gray may have been a very intelligent man, but he did not seem to realize that it would cause lot of awkwardness. "I think it would be better if she were here, where she is safe…and where you can keep an eye on her."

"An eye on her?" Joe said, frowning.

"It's just a precaution." The Gray Man paused, and then went on decidedly. "Miss Morton was with the Assassins for seven years. We do not know what happened to her during that time, or even if she perhaps went over to their side."

"What?" Joe all but exploded, and George laid a hand on his arm. He ignored her. "Come on, you can't be serious. Iola wouldn't do something like that."

"Mr. Gray, we knew…_know_ Iola fairly well and I hardly believe her capable of being an Assassin," Frank said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were narrowed.

"I realize that, Frank, but it is not an uncommon thing to have happened."

"I don't believe this…" Joe muttered darkly.

Nancy and George looked at each other. George looked upset herself, and Nancy suspected it had something to do with Joe's quick defense of Iola. Nancy decided to take control of the situation. She had not lived with a lawyer for almost twenty four years for nothing.

"Why don't we forget about what may or may not have happened for a moment, and focus on what needs to be done."

"As I said yesterday, Mrs. Hardy..."

"Nancy."

"Nancy, you and your family…" he looked at George pointedly and added, "…and friends are not going to do anything. This is network business."

"Mr. Gray, seven years ago my brother and I were good enough to help you," Frank said. "Since then we have only gotten more experience and better training. Do you mean to say that, despite all of that, we have grown less capable of helping?"

"Not at all, Frank, but…"

"Sir, with all due respect," Nancy interrupted him in a polite but firm tone of voice, "we four have been through a lot. Every single one of us has been in life-threatening situations before. We are trained to handle it. We are trained to catch criminals. We are trained to do what we have to, and to accept the consequences. We are trained to think something through before doing it. But we are _not_ trained to sit at home and watch television while somebody else does it for us! We are already involved in this thing, and we can help you solve this. And that is exactly what we aim to do."

When Nancy finished, everybody in the room was silent. Even the drilling in the wall had stopped. Frank looked at his wife with surprise and admiration on his face.

The Gray Man looked at Nancy with no expression whatsoever on his face. She stared back at him. Finally, he nodded and stood up. "Very well. If that's what you want. But," he added sternly as the others began to smile. "You are to follow _my_ orders at all times, and the first time you disobey or do something reckless," here he paused to look directly at Joe, "you will forcibly be put in a safe house as far away as possible. Maybe even Africa."

"Yes, sir!" Frank said with a thankful smile, also standing up and shaking his hand. "Thank you, sir!"

"No need to thank me, Frank." The Gray Man gave half of an amused smile and looked at Nancy. "You found yourself a good wife. Hold on to her."

"Oh I will sir, no need to worry about that!" Frank beamed with pride.

Mr. Gray nodded. "Now. The Assassin that we captured only managed to mention an address. We could get nothing else out of him before he…uh…died. We do not know what it is, but we have had two agents check it out. It seems to be a warehouse, but there have been people coming and going regularly. We are sending some guys in to check it out. Frank and Joe, you might as well be part of the team. I have to leave now, but you can come to headquarters with Agent Phillips and his men once they are done here."

"What about us?" George asked.

"You and Nancy can go pick up Iola at the Morton's farm. It is best that she come here ASAP. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some other important business to attend to."

"I'll walk you to the door," Nancy said.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" Mr. Gray said when at the door. Nancy was not surprised that he seemed to read her mind. She nodded.

"What made you think that Iola is on the other side now?"

"Nothing specifically. It's more of a hunch. I've debriefed many people over the years, and I've learned to see if something is wrong even if I do not yet know what it is."

Nancy nodded. "How did she answer the questions?"

"Surprisingly well," Mr. Gray said. "Normally people stammer and stutter a bit when being questioned, and even contradict themselves. That is only human. Miss Morton, however, answered her questions very…skillfully."

Nancy grew thoughtful, especially at his choice of word. "Almost as if it had been rehearsed."

"Precisely. Now do you understand why I want you to keep an eye on her?"

"Yes, I do."

Mr. Gray opened the door, but before closing it behind him he turned back. "I'm afraid that, because of their personal interest in the matter, Frank and Joe will not be quite as sharp and dependable as usual. It is only natural. That is why I want you and Miss Fayne to be wide awake."

"You can depend on us," Nancy smiled.

"I know. Good day, Nancy."

"Good day, Mr. Gray," Nancy said and closed the door behind him.


	7. Shooting

**Chapter 7: Shooting**

The only sound in the black van to be heard was the sound of clicking guns as the eight agents checked their fire arms. Frank and Joe did the same, but both of them sincerely hoped they did not need to use them. However, they knew exactly who they were dealing with and knew that possibility was slim, at best.

Their mission was simple. Two agents, Perez and Williams, were going to enter the building and try to figure out what was going on without being caught. Frank and Joe had offered to go, but the team leader, agent Coulson, had refused; saying that Perez and Williams were much better trained at that sort of thing. The rest of the team; Frank, Joe, Coulson, Smith, Krieger and Jackson, were there for back-up only, in case something went wrong.

"We're here," the driver said and pulled over to the curb. Perez and Williams stood up and headed towards the door.

"Good luck, guys," Coulson said before they jumped out and shut the door behind them.

Joe rested his head on the side of the van and closed his eyes, his knee jumping up and down impatiently. Waiting was not his favorite pastime. At least Frank could keep track of the guys on the computer. He had a layout of the warehouse, with two blue dots indicating the respective positions of the agents. Red dots registered where the body heat of unknown people was being picked up.

"Trust the guys to get the exciting jobs," George joked on the way to the Morton's farm. Nancy laughed.

"What, you would rather shoot at people – not to mention being shot at _by_ people – that enjoy a nice, peaceful drive out into the country?"

George shot Nancy a look. "You know me, Nan. I don't like sitting around doing nothing."

"Yeah well, me neither. But it's not like we have a choice, you know. It's either this or get on the first plane back to South Africa."

"I bet you wouldn't mind visiting Hanlie and the others, though," George smiled, referring to the friend Nancy and the Hardy's made during their stay in Africa more than a year ago. "You haven't seen them since the wedding. What's it now, three months?"

"Just about," Nancy nodded. "Did you know she and Hendrik are going to have a baby? A little girl."

"Really? Aw, sweet," George smiled.

"Hardy, notice anything?" Agent Coulson came over to Frank, who was sitting with a computer on his lap.

"Sit, there seems to be something going on here," he said, pointing on the screen where a lot of red dots were positioned together. The two blue dots were currently standing still.

"Perez, report," Agent Coulson said. All the agents, including Frank and Joe, were wearing earpieces that allowed them to communicate.

"All clear so far, sir. We didn't meet anybody yet. Williams is trying to open a door."

"All right. We've noticed a gathering of some sorts in a room west of you. If you go through that door…" Coulson glanced at the computer, "…and then right, you should…"

The sound of metal hitting cement and a new voice uttering a profanity interrupted Coulson.

"What's going on?" Coulson asked immediately, his face concerned. Frank looked up at him.

"Sorry sir, but my tools broke. This door is something else."

"Perez, Williams, there is an alternative door to that room. Only problem though, there seems to be a guard."

"All right, we'll figure it out. Where is it?"

Frank guided them as they walked, watching them on the computer the whole time.

"Here we are," Nancy said as she drove through the gate of the Morton farm. Two large dogs ran to greet them as she parked under a tree. When they got out, she noticed Chet walking towards them, a smile on his face.

"Hey Nancy, George!" He said as he got closer. "What are you two doing here?"

"We just came to pick up Iola," Nancy said. "Sorry we didn't call."

"Pick her up?" Chet frowned. "Why?"

"We just thought it would be safer, you know, for the time being. Until we figure out what's going on with the Assassins being back and all."

"All right," Chet said slowly, his eyes narrowed. "Nancy, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Yes," she admitted, smiling. "But if I told you I'd have to kill you!"

Chet laughed. "Okay, I won't ask. I've known Frank and Joe long enough to know not to meddle when I shouldn't. Hey, come on in the house, will ya?"

Walking towards the big farmhouse, George asked, "So how's Iola?"

Chet slowed down a bit and frowned. "She's fine, I guess. It's nice to have her back, but it's also so weird, you know?"

"How so?" Nancy asked, remembering what the Gray Man had told her.

"Well, I guess it's normal that she's changed a bit after seven years." Chet stopped completely and looked Nancy in the eye. "But something's odd, and I can't figure out what."

"Like what?" Nancy probed softly.

"Nothing major, really. Just small things. Like, Iola used to eat incredibly slow. Now she eats as if she has a train to catch. And her little mannerisms and such, they're also different." Chet smiled fondly as he remembered something. "Iola had this thing of always playing with her hair, but now she hardly touches it." He shrugged. "I guess she just changed. Who knows what she went through these last seven years."

"She won't talk about it?" George asked when they continued walking towards the house.

"No, not at all."

The labored breathing of their comrades over the earpieces was all that the agents in the van could hear. As Frank watched the laptop screen, his face grew more and more worried, until Joe finally asked, "What's wrong, Frank?"

Frank didn't answer immediately, but murmured after a few seconds, "Where did all these guys come from?

"Which guys?" Coulson asked, coming to stand by Frank again.

"These ones," Frank pointed out. "Five minutes ago there were barely five guys, now there are almost ten of them. And they're all heading towards…"

"Perez, Williams, get out of there!" Coulson suddenly yelled as Frank's eyes grew wider. "There are about five guys heading your way! Hardy, where can they go?"

But Frank was just shaking his head. "There's nowhere for them to go! Sir, they're trapped!"

The sound of yelling and gunfire suddenly exploded in their ears.

"Sir, they've got us… We're cornered, we -" Williams' voice was suddenly cut off. Coulson hesitated only a moment before jumping towards the door.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

"I was just telling Iola what a pity it was I didn't have her diary anymore," Mrs. Morton said when Nancy and George were seated in the living room, having tea and cake. In the short time they had known Mrs. Morton, they had already learned that she considered it almost a sin to let visitors leave without having eaten something.

"Really?" George said, taking a bite of a rich, and moist, dark chocolate cake. She shut her eyes and sighed. _Heavenly_…

"We had a break-in about…what was it Chet, three months ago?"

"Four," Chet mumbled with his mouth full of chocolate cake. He turned red when Nancy and George both turned to look at him.

"But it was the strangest thing. Almost none of our valuables were stolen, but Iola's room was absolutely raided. They took her diary and all her personal things, like photo albums and scrapbooks and souvenirs and so on. I don't know what they wanted with them."

"That _is_ strange," Nancy frowned, and looked at George, who raised her eyebrows.

"Do you know anything about it?" George asked Iola. She looked startled for a second.

"Me? No, not at all. I wish I knew who took it, though, and what they were planning on doing with it."

The six agents jumped out of the van and ran for the warehouse, not worrying about being seen. The door was locked, but a swift kick from Joe and Krieger took care of that.

"Remember, shoot to wound, not to kill!" Coulson shouted. "And look out for cyanide caps!"

They were barely inside when three Assassins appeared down the hall. They shouted, and then the agents had to run for cover when two machine guns started raining fire on them. Krieger suddenly yelled and fell down.

"Frank! Help me!" Joe shouted, putting his arm around the fallen agent. Frank arrived and picked him up from the other side. Ducking bullets, they fled around the corner.

"Krieger, you all right?" Coulson asked.

"Yeah," the man panted, and pulled a face. "They got me in the leg."

"Frank," Coulson said to Frank, "You know where Perez and Williams are?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Take your brother and Jackson with you and go get them."

"Yes, sir! Come on, Joe!"

While the other three agents remained behind, Frank, Joe and Jackson slipped around the other corner.

"I couldn't believe it when I woke up in my own bed this morning," Iola was saying, her eyes shining. "It felt wonderful. There are just so many memories coming back the whole time."

Mrs. Morton looked at her daughter with a loving expression in her eyes. "Do you know," she smiled, "that sweater she has on has been sitting in that wardrobe all these years? I never had the heart to throw it out. It has always been her favorite."

As Nancy looked at the sweater – a cute pink color with a white teddy bear on it – she noticed something odd. The sleeves of the sweater ended about an inch above Iola's wrists.

"This cake is divine, Mrs. Morton," George said suddenly as she put her plate on the coffee table. "I think I'm going to have to order one for my wedding! I know Joe loves your chocolate cake."

Iola suddenly turned deathly pale, and Mrs. Morton looked flustered. Chet coughed.

Realizing what she had said, George's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I'm so sorry… I didn't think…" _Idiot!_ George thought. _This woman is perhaps expecting her daughter and Joe to get together again!_ She looked at Nancy pleadingly, and her friend came to her rescue.

"Well," Nancy said, standing up. "I guess if everyone's finished we best get going. Iola, are you ready?"

"Yes. I'll just quickly get my bag."

"This way," Frank whispered. He looked around the corner carefully, but did not see or hear anything. They ran down the passage to the door where Perez and Williams had been. There was nobody, but a bright red puddle on the door and bullet marks in the wall told the story.

"The door's open," Jackson remarked in a whisper. Frank looked at a shaft of light coming through the crack. He listened, but heard nothing. Slowly he pushed the door open and entered, swinging his gun left and right. It was a small room, cluttered with boxes and furniture lying around.

"I don't like this…" Joe murmured as he looked through the room. Hearing a muffled but distinct groan, all three turned to where the sound had come from; it was from behind a row of boxes. He motioned to Frank with his head, and he slowly moved over.

When Frank saw who it was, he quickly dropped his gun.

"Perez!" Jackson and Joe quickly followed. The agent was lying on the floor, bound and gagged. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he nodded as soon as he could talk.

"Where's Williams?" Jackson asked. Perez only shook his head.

"Sir," Frank said into the earpiece, "we got Perez, but Williams is down."

"All right," the voice came over the line. "Just get here quickly, this whole place is full of Assassins and Krieger can't stop the bleeding."

"Copy that. All right guys, let's go!" Before Frank could even turn around, he felt something graze his cheek, and then a bullet smashed into the wall right behind him. "Get down!" He shouted. He touched his cheek. There was blood on his hand as he pulled it back.

"It's only one guy," Joe said from behind a crate. A bullet flew past him.

"Give me a gun," Perez commanded, and Jackson obliged. Perez aimed at the shooter, his face full of rage.

"Remember, aim to wound, not to…" Frank was cut off when the shooter crumpled to the ground. "…kill." He swallowed, and then stood up. "Let's go."

The four agents ran out the door. Just before Joe went out the door, he stopped, and his eyes grew wide.

"Frank!" He shouted, and pointed at a large box in the corner. A big dial was fixed on it, with numbers on the face. 31…30…29…

"Run!" Frank shouted, and they did. When they reached the others, he simply shouted "Bomb!"

One or two others let loose a few four-letter words, before Frank and Joe each grabbed a side of Krieger, who was already losing consciousness due to blood loss. While Jackson and the other agents provided cover fire, the team exited the building one by one.

3…2…1…0


	8. Clue

**Chapter 8: Clue**

Nancy, George and Iola were just pulling into the driveway when they saw and heard the explosion.

"What on earth?" Nancy said, stepping out of the car. She grew cold when she saw the smoke rising from somewhere in the town.

"Oh, no…" George looked at Nancy with fear in her eyes. They were both thinking the same thing.

"Do you think it's them?" Iola asked as she jumped out of the car.

"I don't know…" Nancy grabbed her cellphone out of her pocket and speed-dialed Frank. She listened a bit with a worried expression. "He's not answering," she said anxiously.

"Let's go into the house," George said and took her friend by the arm. "I'm sure they'll call soon."

Nancy was busy trying to make lunch when her phone rang. She grabbed it from the counter, almost dropping it, and anxiously answered without even looking to see who was calling. "Hello?"

"Hi Nancy, it's me. Frank."

"Frank!" Nancy said, sighing in relief, and slumping against the counter. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

"Yeah, we're fine. We're at HQ's. Did you see the explosion?"

"I think the whole of Bayport saw the explosion! Were you in it?"

"We got out just in time." Frank briefly explained what had happened. "We were already in the van, driving off, when the building exploded."

"But why would they want to blow up the whole warehouse?" Nancy asked, puzzled. "It doesn't make sense!"

"Yeah, they're still working on it. Could be they had something in there they didn't want us to find, and they thought to get rid of a few agents while they were at it." Nancy heard the smile in Frank's voice.

"Not funny, Frank Hardy. When are you going to be home?"

"Soon. We're getting in the car now." Frank spoke with somebody in the background, then said "Joe wants to know if there is anything to eat."

"Of course!"

They were just finished with lunch when the phone rang again. Frank answered it, and walked into his study while talking.

"Who was it?" Nancy asked as Frank came back.

"Mr. Gray. Apparently there were some computers in the building with data in them. Most of it got blown away in the explosion, but they managed to recover part of one file." Frank sat down and took a sip of the coffee Nancy placed in front of him. "Thanks, Nance. Anyway, all they found was the name and address of a certain professor called John Hawkins. Apparently he's some kind of scientific genius who is trying to find a cure for cancer."

"What do the Assassins want with somebody like that?" Iola voiced everyone's question.

"That's what Nancy and I have to go find out," Frank said. "Mr. Gray wants us to go see him ASAP."

"Well, let's go!" Nancy said, jumping up. At last she was getting a chance to actually do something!

Frank smiled and followed his wife. A few minutes later Joe heard the car start and drive off. He looked at Iola. _I have to get this done sometime…_ he thought. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Iola, can I talk to you?"

She looked startled for a moment, but then nodded. "Okay."

George looked after them as they exited the kitchen. She knew that this conversation was necessary, but that Joe dreaded it. She shot up a quick prayer, and then started clearing the table.

Joe felt awkward, sitting next to Iola on the living room couch. He didn't quite know what to say, or how to say it.

"Oh, Joe!" Iola suddenly burst out, and clasped his hand. "I've missed you so much…"

"I…I've missed you too," Joe said honestly.

"The whole time I was with them, all I thought about was you." Iola smiled, and looked at the carpet. "I used to imagine what it would have been like, if I was still here. Us graduating, going to the prom together. You actually wearing a tux!"

Joe smiled. "You know I hate wearing tuxedos!"

"Who _did_ you go to the prom with?" Iola asked.

Joe swallowed, remembering. It had been little more than a year after Iola's death, but back then it still just hurt too much. He had flirted with other girls, sure – that was second nature to him. But something as significant as going to the prom… "Nobody. I didn't go."

"Why?" Iola asked, and tilted her head slightly. Joe's breath caught in his throat as his mind flashed back seven years. A wave of emotion that he couldn't quite figure out suddenly made him feel weak.

"Because of you," he said in a low voice. "Because I still couldn't forget you."

"This is the place," Frank said, pulling into the driveway. It was a normal house in a good neighborhood with a well-kept garden and a swing on the porch.

"Looks pretty quiet," Nancy said as she got out of the car. Frank locked the doors and followed her up to the front door. She rang the bell.

"I wonder if anybody's home," Frank said as Nancy pressed the bell a second time. She frowned, and looked down at the porch.

"Look," she said, and pointed to a pile of newspapers. Bending down, she picked up one of them. "This is from three days ago."

"Maybe he's on vacation or something," Frank shrugged. "Or maybe something's wrong."

"It looks dark in there, and I couldn't hear anything. Do you think we should go in?"

"I don't know," Frank said thoughtfully. "Technically it's breaking and entering, but if there's trouble..."

Nancy tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. She looked at Frank, smiling. "It's not breaking anymore!"

"All right," he sighed. "But this was your idea."

The house was dark, and there was a pile of mail lying just inside the front door. Frank quickly glanced through it.

"Frank," Nancy suddenly said urgently from a room off the hall. "Look here."

Frank entered and drew in a sharp breath. "Wow."

"Tell me about George," Iola was saying. She leaned back against the sofa and looked at Joe.

"For a few years I was just like a robot, you know," he said softly. "I did what I had to and appeared normal, but I was just hurting. When I finally figured out how to live with the guilt, it went better. Then I met George, about a half year ago. It was just after Nancy and Frank announced their engagement, and George and Bess – another friend of Nancy's – held this big party."

Joe closed his eyes and remembered.

_Everybody was dancing. It seemed like that, anyway. Joe was leaning against the wall with a glass of Coke in his hand, watching Nancy and his brother dance. He couldn't believe Frank was getting married. Sure, he liked Nancy a lot and he did not mind getting her for a sister. But that also meant he was losing a brother. The truth was, he was just plain scared of being alone._

"_Penny for your thoughts," a teasing voice suddenly sounded next to him. He turned and saw a tall girl with short curly hair and sharp green eyes. He knew he was supposed to know her name, seeing as how Nancy had introduced him to her, but for the life of him he could not remember._

"_I was thinking two things, actually," he teased back. "So you owe me two pennies."_

_To his surprise, she reached into her pocket and, with a big grin, presented him with the required two pennnies._

"_Now you owe me your thoughts."_

"_Well, firstly I thought that you look pretty," he said. She raised her eyebrows, and then Joe added, "And then I tried to remember what the heck your name is!"_

_The girl laughed, and Joe was mesmerized by the sound of it. "George," she said. "George Fayne, one of Nancy's best friends."_

"Well, we talked," Joe said, "and danced – mostly because Bess caught us standing around and wouldn't leave us alone until we did."

_The feeling of her so close to Joe was intoxicating. She wasn't like the normal girl; the ones who drooled all over the famous Joe Hardy. George was cool and calm, but with a sense of humor that matched his own. She also had a way of looking you straight in the eyes when you talked. Strangely enough that did not make Joe uncomfortable, but merely made him think that she understood and really listened to what he had to say. Plus, she liked sports._

"_So," Joe said after a few seconds of comfortable silence, "do you have a boyfriend?"_

_George looked at him and smirked. "You don't waste time, do you?"_

"_Why should I?" Joe wanted to know. "I want to know if I'm going to have to fight somebody for dancing with his girl. Which I'd rather not."_

"_Scared?" She smiled._

"_Me?" Joe asked, shocked. "Never! But Frank and Nancy are going to kill me if I ruin their party!"_

"_Yeah, well, they're going to have to get in line then, because after all the hard work Bess and I put into this I will personally slug you."_

"_Ouch," Joe winced. "Not many girls threaten me with violence if I offer to fight over them."_

"_I am not a fan of silly, immature boys fighting over a girl like two dogs over a bone," she said firmly._

"_Even if the bone was you?" Joe probed, giving his famous Joe Hardy grin._

"_Especially if the 'bone', as you so flatteringly describe me, was me."_

"_So do you?" Joe asked after a few moments._

"_Do I what?" George asked, puzzled. _

"_Have a boyfriend."_

_George shook her head, exasperated, but then smiled. "No."_

_Joe smiled back. "That's nice."_

"So why do you like her?" Iola asked, and Joe detected a slight trace of hurt in her voice.

"Well, at first it was because she was so different. She was refreshing, kind of. And as I got to know her, there was the usual list. She's kind, funny, smart, a nice person to be around, you can always depend on her, that sort of thing." Joe paused a bit. "But mostly it's because she made me feel like she really understands me, and cares about the person I am and not that whole heartbreaker-Joe thing. And she made me something I hadn't been in years. Happy."

"So, she made you forget about me? She replaced me?" There was a catch in Iola's breath that made Joe's heart ache.

"No, no, not at all," he said, turning towards her. He took both her small, cold hands into his. "Nobody can ever replace you. I love her for who she is and what she means to me. I've always had a big heart, you know." He smiled slightly, trying to reassure her.

"I know," Iola said. She looked into Joe's eyes, and his heart started pounding when he realized they were only inches apart. "That is why I love you so much."

And before Joe knew it, he was kissing Iola Morton.

Frank whistled as he looked at the professor's living room. "It looks like a tornado's been through here."

"More like Assassins, would be my guess," Nancy said. "See there? He must have been sitting at his desk when they came in. That chair's upturned. And then they dragged him over there to the coffee table, where he knocked the vase over."

Frank walked over to the broken pieces of china and pointed to one of them. "Looks like somebody got cut on one of them. See, there's blood on this piece here."

Nancy walked over, and pulled a plastic bag out of her purse at the same time. She picked it up with a tissue carefully, and put it inside.

"Always prepared," Frank smiled.

"Yep." She surveyed the room again. "Looks like he got away and started running, because the rest of the room is also in a mess."

Frank nodded. "Yeah. Looks like they were looking for something, too. See there, the desk's drawers are spilled all over the floor."

"I wonder wh…" Nancy was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. "What on earth…"

Frank was already looking at something lying on the floor. His eyes widened. "Grenade!"


	9. Leaving

**Chapter 9: Leaving**

Joe was shocked by Iola's kiss, but not as much as George was when she walked into the living room. She didn't quite drop the coffee tray that was in her hands, but it shook so bad that the rattling cups made Joe and Iola jump apart like they had been struck by lightning.

Joe felt all the life drain out of him when he saw the expression on George's face. She was deathly pale, and the disappointment in her eyes made Joe want to hit something or someone – preferably himself.

For a few moments George just stood there, and then she quietly put down the tray, turned around, and ran away. Joe started to follow her, shooting a glare at Iola, but the telephone rang before he made it out of the room. Torn between following his fiancée (hopefully not ex- fiancée) and answering the phone, he finally decided that perhaps George needed some time alone.

"Joe Hardy speaking," he said into the phone, barely able to keep the worry from his voice.

"Joe!" He heard a familiar, female voice grinning over the phone. "How's my favorite almost-cousin-in-law?"

"Hey Bess," he grimaced. "Uh… Not so good."

"What's wrong?" She asked, with concern evident in her voice.

"It's kinda a long story," he admitted. "Short version; I messed up and now George is mad at me. I don't blame her."

Joe heard Bess sigh. "I was afraid something like this was going to happen."

Joe, figuring he probably deserved it considering his past, let the comment slide.

"Who is it this time?" Bess asked.

Joe looked over at his co-offender, who was sitting on the couch looking miffed.

"Iola."

"Oh. OH. **WHAT?!**"

Joe grimaced and pulled the phone away from his ear at the same time. After Bess's sputtering stopped, he briefly explained what had happened.

"So then we decided to have a talk, and we uh…we kissed."

"Oh, great!" Iola spoke up from her seat on the couch. "Now you're telling the whole world our business."

Joe looked at her strangely, and then glanced sharply at the window when he heard a car start. "Oh, darn!" He said softly.

"What's wrong now?" Bess sighed.

"George just drove off in her car." He paused as he thought a while. "Hey, where are you?"

"At home, why?" Bess was a fashion designer in New York, and to find her at home in River Heights was almost a miracle. Joe sighed in relief.

"I think George might be headed over there."

**BOOM!**

The blast was deafening, but from a safe distance away at least. Frank, always quick to respond, had picked up the grenade and thrown it back out of the window just in time.

After the noise died down, he stood up. He had pushed Nancy down behind a couch with himself protectively on top of her. As he stood up, he said, "You know, that is the third time in two days somebody has tried to kill me."

Nancy frowned. "I wonder if the others are ok."

"I'll quickly call Joe." Frank dialed the house's number, but only received a dial tone. "I guess they're busy. Let's go home."

Joe sighed with relief when he saw his brother's car pull into the driveway. Since the phone call, he and Iola had not exchanged one word and the awkwardness in the air was suffocating him. He jumped up and went to meet Frank and Nancy at their car.

"Hey guys," he said. "We have a slight problem. Well, I have a slight problem."

"You always have a slight problem," Nancy teased. She frowned as she looked around. "Where's George's car?"

Frank was studying his brother's face. He knew that look. "I think the question is; where is George? Or, to be precise, why is she there and not here?"

Joe swallowed and looked uncomfortable. "She…uh…she kinda walked in on me and Iola kissing."

Frank's eyes grew wide, but he was actually expecting something like this to happen. Joe was, after all Joe. He just had not expected Joe to go and kiss Iola with George right in the other room.

Nancy closed her eyes and forced herself to breath. When she opened her eyes again, there was fire in them. "Joe, do you remember what I told you when you and George got engaged?"

He did, but pretended not to. "No." He sort of hoped she had forgotten, but knew that he was just kidding himself.

"I said that if ever you broke her heart, I would personally break your legs."

"Nan, it was just a kiss!" Joe felt like slapping himself once the words were out. Nancy shared the sentiment.

"For you, maybe," she said, and her tone of voice made Joe want to back up. He looked towards his brother for support, but Frank's expression reminded him of his mother in a strange way. Not a good way, either. Joe looked back at Nancy's dismayed face as she continued. "But George does not take things like that lightly. For her, kissing is something special. Did you know that you were the first guy she ever kissed?"

"No," Joe whispered, and felt even worse. What had he done?

George could barely see out of the windshield because of the tears. She tried to tell herself to stop crying, that it was not that bad, that there were many fish in the sea. _But there's only one Joe Hardy…_

Eventually she pulled over on the side of the road. Taking a few deep breaths, she forced herself to think clearly. What was she thinking, anyway? She didn't even pack her bags. She just grabbed her purse, jumped into the car and drove off, not even sure where she was going.

She contemplated turning around, but decided against it. There was no way she could face Joe and Iola. Not now.

George looked down at the engagement ring on her finger. Slowly she took it off, and reached into the glove compartment for her purse. As she did, her hand bumped against the radio and music suddenly filled the car. She was about to turn it back off, but when she heard the words her breath caught in her throat.

_How do you leave the one you love?_

_How do you rise above it all?_

_Where do I find the strength to make it_

_Through tomorrow when you're gone?_

George had to force herself to breathe. How did this woman know her feelings so perfectly?

_And what do I tell myself tonight?_

_How can I ever make it right?_

_How do you leave?_

_How do you leave the one you love?_

_I'm so tired of being strong_

_I'm so afraid of being wrong_

_But I don't want to live a lifetime with regrets_

_So I have to let you go_

_Walk away now even though_

_My heart is telling me it's a mistake_

Since Iola had arrived, she had tried to be strong and not give in to the feeling of dread and despair, but she couldn't anymore. Part of her knew Joe loved her and they belonged together, but another part knew he wanted Iola… Which part was right? What if she and Joe did get married, but she lived her whole life not knowing who he really wanted?

_But can I ever set you free?_

_You've been the very heart of me_

_There has to be another way_

_I don't want to face the truth_

_How do you leave the one you love?_

_How do you rise above it all?_

_Where do I find the strength to make it_

_Through tomorrow when you're gone?_

_And what do I tell myself tonight?_

_How can I ever make it right?_

_How do you leave?_

_How do you leave the one you love?_

_I want it to be possible_

_I'm hoping for a miracle_

_There has to be another way_

_I don't want to face the truth_

_How do you leave?_

_Where do I find the strength to make it_

_Through tomorrow when you're gone?_

_And what do I tell myself tonight?_

_How can I ever make it right?_

_How do you leave?_

_How do you leave the one you love?_

George choked back a sob as the song ended. As she pulled back onto the road, the words of the song echoed in her mind endlessly. She had to go. She had to go home.

_How do I leave the one I love?_

Many hours later, a worried Bess heard a car pull into the driveway. When she recognized George's white sedan, she let out a relieved breath and pressed 'send' on the text message she had typed earlier.

_George arrived safely. Will call tomorrow. Love, B._

Bess was shocked when she saw her cousin walking to the door. She was disheveled, her eyes were red, and tear marks were still visible on her pale face. Bess did not show her shock, and instead threw her arms around George wordlessly. For a few long moments the two cousins just held each other in the cold midnight air. Then Bess drew back and took George by the arm.

"Come on in. I have some hot soup on the stove and some tea, and then you're going straight to bed."

"She's safe," Nancy breathed after reading Bess's text. She and the Hardy brothers were sitting around the kitchen table. Iola had gone to bed hours ago.

Joe closed his eyes and sighed. He had not stopped feeling guilty ever since George left.

"But for how long?" Frank asked, frowning. "If the Assassins find out she's alone and unprotected…"

Joe paled considerably. "I have to go to her," he decided.

"To do what, Joe?" Nancy snapped. She was tired, tense, and still mad at Joe. "To upset her even more?"

"I agree with Nancy, Joe," Frank said. "You've done enough already."

"I know, I know!" Joe said, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He knew he deserved their anger. "I messed up big time. I wish I could undo it. But don't you see? I need to fix this. I need to make it right, to tell her how sorry I am."

"What if she doesn't want you back?" Nancy suddenly asked. She sounded tired. "Have you thought about that?"

Joe nodded. "Yes. But even so, I still want to apologize to her. I don't deserve to have her take me back, I know. I just… I really love her. Just give me a chance, please Nancy? Frank?"

Frank and Nancy shared a look. It was plain to see Joe was angrier with himself than Frank and Nancy combined.

"All right," Frank finally said, sighing. "I will book you a flight first thing in the morning. It's as much for their safety as it is for you to go speak to George. But until their flight, I don't want you to move out of the house.

"All right," Joe said, smiling briefly in relief. "Thank you!"

"How are you feeling?" Bess asked late the next morning as George came down the stairs. She was still pale, but after a good night's sleep, a shower and some clean clothes she looked much improved.

"Better," George gave a small smile as she sat down on the sofa. Bess put down the romance novel she had been reading and looked at her cousin intently.

"Do you want to talk or do you just want me to kill him?"

George had to smile again at her cousin. "No, I think you better leave him for now."

"Still love him, huh?"

The dark haired girl nodded. "Yes. At the moment I'm just really sad and disappointed. Angry as well, but mostly sad. Right now I just want to cry."

Had George raved and ranted and threatened to do all kinds of things to Joe Hardy, Bess would have been slightly satisfied. Seeing her independent, strong cousin so…weak, just made Bess wish Joe dared to show his face on her front porch.

"It's not really his fault," George pleaded. Something made her think she was just trying to convince herself. "He's just confused. He was planning on marrying her before she disappeared. It's only natural that those feelings are coming back now."

"After seven years?" Bess went to sit on the sofa next to George. She took hold of bother her hands and looked into her eyes. "George, he has no excuse for what he did. He has to make a choice, for once and for all. Maybe you leaving will finally force him to choose."

"Maybe I should just let him go," George whispered, looking down at her left hand. She had put her ring back on that morning, out of habit.

"No," Bess shook her head, determined. "You are not going to make it easy on him. _He _has to decide."

"I'm scared, Bess. I'm so scared he'll choose Iola. I'm so mad, but I'm scared if I start yelling at him he'll choose her and leave me. I just don't know what to do!" George burst into tears, partly out of anger and partly out of fear.

"He won't," Bess reassured her cousin, wrapping her arms around her. The expression on her face did not promise anything good for Joe if he did not choose her cousin.


	10. Decision

**Chapter 10: Decision**

It was nice and quiet in the park. George was sitting on a bench by the frozen pond, enjoying the winter sun. It was right here, just a few months ago, that Joe had proposed to her.

_The autumn air was chilly, and Joe had offered her his jacket. They were walking along the path, her arm around his waist and his around her shoulders._

_He had seemed kind of nervous the whole day, but she did not know what was going on. She suspected that it had to do with a big court case coming up. The two brothers had uncovered a big drug operation a while earlier, and both of them had to testify in it._

"_Want to sit down a bit?" Joe asked, steering George towards a bench. They sat down close together, but neither said anything. Being so close to Joe made George's heart beat faster. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder._

"_Are you nervous about the trial?" She asked after a few moments of silence._

"_Not really," Joe answered._

"_You seem on edge."_

"_Do I?" Joe asked, and a secretive smile lit up his face. George looked into his blue eyes and felt like she could stay in his arms her whole life. "Well, maybe I got a reason to."_

"_And what might that reason be, Joe Hardy?"_

"_Oh, I can't tell you that. It's a secret."_

_George was bursting with curiosity, but did not let on. "Oh. Okay."_

_Joe looked a little crestfallen, but did not say anything. He continued smiling at her mischievously, and George had to force herself not to give in._

_After they sat in silence for a few long minutes, Joe suddenly said in a strange, soft voice; "Hey, there's something for you in the left pocket of my jacket."_

_George, looking at Joe curiously, reached into the indicated pocket. Her heart rate sped up considerably when she saw the square box._

"_Joe?" She looked at him, a questioning look in her eyes._

_He swallowed. His eyes were intense, and his voice husky when he said, "Open it."_

_With shaking hands, George flipped open the lid on the black velvet box. Inside was a simple but elegant white gold ring with a single diamond._

"_It's beautiful," she whispered. Joe took the ring from the box and tenderly took her left hand._

"_George, I love you so much," he said, and she could see the truth of it in his eyes. "I don't know if it's too soon, but I do know that you're the one for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"_

_George did not know what to say. The rational side of her was saying 'Let me think about it for a while', but her heart was screaming 'YES!' She looked into Joe's earnest blue eyes, and made her choice. "Yes."_

_Joe's face broke into a smile so bright it lit up the whole park. "You…you will? You'll marry me?"_

"_I already said yes, you silly boy!" George was suddenly laughing, a feeling of joy bubbling up in her like a fountain. Joe looked at her like he couldn't believe it, and then slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit._

"_I love you," he said again, and his hand reached out to cup her cheek. George covered his hand with hers._

"_I love you too," she said. Joe leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth so tenderly and softly that George felt like the most loved girl on the planet._

The sound of footsteps jerked George out of her memories. She glanced behind her, and her heart stood still.

"I thought I might find you here," Joe said softly. He looked as if he had not slept at all the previous night. George simply looked at him, not knowing what to say. She was still struggling to sort out her emotions, but was leaning towards upset. And angry. Joe came around and sat on the other side of the bench.

"I didn't think you'd come," George said in an emotionless voice, looking out over the pond again. Joe did not say anything, so she asked, "Why did you?"

"Because I… I realized what an idiot I am." Joe looked away, his hands in his pockets. "When she… when Iola came back, I was just so confused. I didn't know what to do. For a while I thought I still loved her. But then I realized I don't."

Joe looked at George. "I realized I was just holding on to the idea of loving her, if you understand what I mean."

"I do," George nodded, her voice surprisingly calm. "I unders…Joe, _how could you_?"

Joe was taken aback at the sudden change in George. Her eyes were blazing and he suddenly knew why her police colleagues often described her as 'terrifying'. "George, I didn't mean to…"

She ignored him completely. "I barely left you alone with her for ten minutes! I didn't want to, but I _trusted_ you. And when I came back, what do I find? My fiancé, who told me just a few hours ago how much he loved me and 'we'll get through this', I find him kissing his ex-girlfriend!"

"But I do love you!"

"Apparently not enough!" George continued, and Joe shrank back at the anger and bitterness in her voice. "Apparently you love her as well – or you thought you loved her! You _thought_ you loved her so much that you kissed her with me right in the next room! She was gone for _seven years_, Joe… Seven years! I would think that is enough time for a grown man to decide what he wants. But oh no, the famous Joe Hardy here like kissing both sides! For you a little kiss might mean nothing, but I'm not that kind of girl, Joe. You of all people should know that."

George's voice had grown softer in volume gradually, and she leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes as if all her strength was drained. "I don't know, Joe," she said, her voice tired. "You will have to choose once and for all."

"I already have," Joe said softly. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, to kiss her hair and to wipe away the tears he knew were threatening to spill over. But he was scared she would push him away. "I came to say how sorry I am that I hurt you. Kissing Iola was a mistake, a bad one. But that was all it was. I don't love her. I love _you_, and only you, and so much that I don't know how to forgive myself. I don't know if you can forgive me, and if you never want to see me again I understand. But I choose you. And I always will."

Joe reached out towards George, but pulled back. He stood up slowly. "That's what I came to say." He started walking away, a tight squeezing in his chest.

"Joe, wait!"

He froze in his tracks and his heart rate sped up. Slowly he turned around. George stood a few feet away from him. She looked down at her feet, and when she looked back up there was a small smile on her face.

"I feel better now that I've yelled at you."

The corner of Joe's mouth tugged upwards, and he walked a few paces closer to George. "So…what does that mean?"

"I guess it means you're forgiven. It will probably be a while before I can trust you again, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

A smile broke out over Joe's face. He took George's hand and looked at the engagement ring still on her finger. He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a tender kiss on her fingers. "I don't deserve you," he said in a husky voice.

"Probably not," George agreed with a twinkle in her eyes. "But I love you anyway."

Joe pulled her close, and kissed her on the lips softly and gently, and all the worry and fear and anger and tears of the past day were lost in that kiss.

Bess was not thrilled to see Joe again, and only the look of joy on George's face kept her from giving Joe a rather large chunk of her mind. Instead, the trio had a very enjoyable evening which they spent playing games and talking and watching movies.

Bess was lying stretched out on the one sofa in front of the big flat screen TV, and George was lying in Joe's arms on the other. The movie was at its climax, and their attention was so wrapped up in what was happening on the screen, that they didn't hear the front door open slowly, or footsteps creeping down the hallway.

Frank and Nancy were already asleep when the phone on their bedside table rang. Frank sat up, rubbing his eyes, while Nancy switched on the light.

"Hello?" Frank said groggily, trying to wake up.

"We have your brother and the girls." The voice on the other end was muffled, but Frank could hear every word clearly. He was suddenly wide awake.

"What? Who are you?"

"If you ever want to see your brother or his fiancée or her cousin again, you will leave this investigation right now."

"How do I know you're speaking the truth?" Frank asked. By now Nancy had leaned in close to hear what was being said, and she and Frank shared a worried look. They could hear the sounds of the phone being transferred to another person.

"Frank?" The voice was unmistakably Joe's. "We're okay. We're in a van headed towards…"

There was the sound of a struggle, then a punch and a groan, and then the line went dead.

**Chapter 11: Trapped**

When Joe finally came to, it was dark and quiet, and smelled musty. He groaned and sat up, touching the large bump on his head.

"Thank goodness," he heard George's familiar and relieved voice. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out her form next to him. She turned and spoke into the darkness, presumably to Bess. "He's awake."

"Hey," he said, his throat dry. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't the one knocked over the head with a gun," she said wryly. "Are you ok?"

"My head is pounding, but otherwise I'm ok. Where are we?"

"I have no idea. I don't think we're in River Heights anymore, though. We drove for hours, then they blindfolded us and when I could see again we were in here."

"We've been here for about half an hour," said Bess.

"I've been out that long?"

"Yeah. We were really getting worried!"

Joe stood up. He was a bit wobbly on his feet at first, but the dizziness passed quickly. "I don't suppose any of you have a light or something?"

"They emptied our pockets," George grimaced.

Bess added, "I don't even have as much as a lipstick on me!"

Joe tried to see what was in the room. He could make out the door faintly, and moved towards it. It was locked, of course, but he found something else next to it: a light switch. _Click_! And the lights were on. Everybody blinked a few times to get used to the sudden light.

There was not much in the room. It was an empty square room with no windows. In one corner, however, there were a few blankets lying on the floor.

"I wonder whose it is," Joe remarked as he looked them over. His words were scarcely out of his mouth when he heard the door unlocking. In a second he was standing next to George, ready for anyone or anything that might come through the door.

The door only opened a few inches, just wide enough for a short and scrawny middle aged man in rumpled clothes to enter. The door quickly shut again behind him and he started when he saw the three young people.

"Who are you?" He asked in a high-pitched, nervous voice. He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"We might ask you the same question," Joe said cautiously.

"Professor John Hawkins," the man said, not moving from the door. He had a pale face and thick, black hair that was starting to grey at the temples. He looked tired, and had clearly not shaved for a few days, but his green eyes were sharp and intelligent.

Joe was surprised when he heard the name, and shared a glance with George. This was the man to whose house Frank and Nancy had gone, only to find the place a wreck.

"Joe Hardy," he introduced himself. "And this is George Fayne and Bess Marvin."

"I would express my pleasure in making your acquaintance, but I fear that would be inappropriate under the circumstances."

Joe blinked once, and stared after the man as he made his way to the blankets in the corner slowly. "Uhm… yeah. Whatever you say."

George's curiosity was aroused, and she moved towards the man. "Professor, I'm with the River Heights PD, and my fiancé over there is a private investigator. We have been working on a case and one of the leads led us – well, Joe's brother and his wife – to your house. When they arrived there you were already gone. Can you tell us what happened?"

The professor was sitting up straight now. "You are a law enforcement officer? I do not suppose you have any identification on you?"

"No, sir. They took everything."

"Well. I do not think I have anything to lose by telling you my unfortunate tale." He paused for a minute, and the other three went to sit on the floor near him.

"I was occupied at my writing desk in my living room approximately 3 days ago. It was already rather late at night and I was about to retire when two anonymous men appeared in my living room. I could not identify them due to the fact that they both wore what appeared to be ski-masks over their faces. They attempted to forcibly remove my person from my home. I resisted, naturally, and am glad to say that I succeeded in inflicting a cut on one of the brutes' faces. However, he did not take kindly to that event and in retaliation gave me a blow to head that succeeded in rendering me unconscious."

Joe was glad that the professor stopped to take a breath, and used the opportunity to try and process all the information.

"When I next came to my senses I was here in this very chamber. I was soon summoned to have an audience with the leader of this organization. It seemed that they required me to create a scientific formula for their own purposes. It is all very scientifical, I would not expect you to understand."

_You got that right_, Joe thought. "What kind of formula do they wish for… I mean, what do they want you to make for them?" _Great – his way of speaking is contagious_!

Here the professor hesitated. "I am afraid that I am not at liberty to disclose that information to you."

"Sir, we need to know if we're going to find out what is going on," George said.

"I can comprehend that, but may I ask what you propose to do with the information once you have acquired it?"

"Well, sir, we don't plan to stay here very long," George smiled. The professor, whose face had been perfectly expressionless until then, raised his eyebrows in question.

"We've been in worse situations before," Joe explained.

"That might be your conviction at this moment in time, but you cannot utter such a statement unless you know precisely what the current situation is."

"What exactly is the situation, then?"

"Well, this room is under guard twenty four hours a day. The guards are changed every four hours. We are currently underground, and to get outside would be impossible. There are numerous doors, every single one of which needs an entrance code – and those are changed daily. In addition to this, there are so many different routes and passages to the outside world that it is possible to be lost in them for the rest of your life – which will not be long considering the amount of guards patrolling these passages."

Joe thought for a moment, frowning. "But why are there so many guards?"

"Because this is a storage facility for many illegal items, such as weapons and computer systems that can hack into many government databases. It is also the base of a top-secret laboratory, where I conduct my work."

Joe whistled. "I guess if you have so many things together in one place, you better guard it well."

"Something seems wrong to me, Joe," George said, shaking her head. "I mean, the Assassins wouldn't put everything together in one place. They are known for being so widespread their own operatives don't know where everything is. And don't they change regularly? Moving an operation as big as this one will be near impossible."

"You're right," Joe agreed. "This _is_ strange."

"Pardon me," the professor said, "The uh… Assassins?"

"They're an international terrorist group," Joe explained. "They're the ones who kidnapped us."

The professor shook his head. "I doubt that. These people are Americans, every last one of them."

"It could just be an American base," Joe argued.

"My dear boy, believe me when I tell you that this organization is most assuredly not the 'Assassins'."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Simply the fact that the leader of this organization is my own blood brother."


	11. Trapped

**Chapter 11: Trapped**

When Joe finally came to, it was dark and quiet, and smelled musty. He groaned and sat up, touching the large bump on his head.

"Thank goodness," he heard George's familiar and relieved voice. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out her form next to him. She turned and spoke into the darkness, presumably to Bess. "He's awake."

"Hey," he said, his throat dry. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't the one knocked over the head with a gun," she said wryly. "Are you ok?"

"My head is pounding, but otherwise I'm ok. Where are we?"

"I have no idea. I don't think we're in River Heights anymore, though. We drove for hours, then they blindfolded us and when I could see again we were in here."

"We've been here for about half an hour," said Bess.

"I've been out that long?"

"Yeah. We were really getting worried!"

Joe stood up. He was a bit wobbly on his feet at first, but the dizziness passed quickly. "I don't suppose any of you have a light or something?"

"They emptied our pockets," George grimaced.

Bess added, "I don't even have as much as a lipstick on me!"

Joe tried to see what was in the room. He could make out the door faintly, and moved towards it. It was locked, of course, but he found something else next to it: a light switch. _Click_! And the lights were on. Everybody blinked a few times to get used to the sudden light.

There was not much in the room. It was an empty square room with no windows. In one corner, however, there were a few blankets lying on the floor.

"I wonder whose it is," Joe remarked as he looked them over. His words were scarcely out of his mouth when he heard the door unlocking. In a second he was standing next to George, ready for anyone or anything that might come through the door.

The door only opened a few inches, just wide enough for a short and scrawny middle aged man in rumpled clothes to enter. The door quickly shut again behind him and he started when he saw the three young people.

"Who are you?" He asked in a high-pitched, nervous voice. He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"We might ask you the same question," Joe said cautiously.

"Professor John Hawkins," the man said, not moving from the door. He had a pale face and thick, black hair that was starting to grey at the temples. He looked tired, and had clearly not shaved for a few days, but his green eyes were sharp and intelligent.

Joe was surprised when he heard the name, and shared a glance with George. This was the man to whose house Frank and Nancy had gone, only to find the place a wreck.

"Joe Hardy," he introduced himself. "And this is George Fayne and Bess Marvin."

"I would express my pleasure in making your acquaintance, but I fear that would be inappropriate under the circumstances."

Joe blinked once, and stared after the man as he made his way to the blankets in the corner slowly. "Uhm… yeah. Whatever you say."

George's curiosity was aroused, and she moved towards the man. "Professor, I'm with the River Heights PD, and my fiancé over there is a private investigator. We have been working on a case and one of the leads led us – well, Joe's brother and his wife – to your house. When they arrived there you were already gone. Can you tell us what happened?"

The professor was sitting up straight now. "You are a law enforcement officer? I do not suppose you have any identification on you?"

"No, sir. They took everything."

"Well. I do not think I have anything to lose by telling you my unfortunate tale." He paused for a minute, and the other three went to sit on the floor near him.

"I was occupied at my writing desk in my living room approximately 3 days ago. It was already rather late at night and I was about to retire when two anonymous men appeared in my living room. I could not identify them due to the fact that they both wore what appeared to be ski-masks over their faces. They attempted to forcibly remove my person from my home. I resisted, naturally, and am glad to say that I succeeded in inflicting a cut on one of the brutes' faces. However, he did not take kindly to that event and in retaliation gave me a blow to head that succeeded in rendering me unconscious."

Joe was glad that the professor stopped to take a breath, and used the opportunity to try and process all the information.

"When I next came to my senses I was here in this very chamber. I was soon summoned to have an audience with the leader of this organization. It seemed that they required me to create a scientific formula for their own purposes. It is all very scientifical, I would not expect you to understand."

_You got that right_, Joe thought. "What kind of formula do they wish for… I mean, what do they want you to make for them?" _Great – his way of speaking is contagious_!

Here the professor hesitated. "I am afraid that I am not at liberty to disclose that information to you."

"Sir, we need to know if we're going to find out what is going on," George said.

"I can comprehend that, but may I ask what you propose to do with the information once you have acquired it?"

"Well, sir, we don't plan to stay here very long," George smiled. The professor, whose face had been perfectly expressionless until then, raised his eyebrows in question.

"We've been in worse situations before," Joe explained.

"That might be your conviction at this moment in time, but you cannot utter such a statement unless you know precisely what the current situation is."

"What exactly is the situation, then?"

"Well, this room is under guard twenty four hours a day. The guards are changed every four hours. We are currently underground, and to get outside would be impossible. There are numerous doors, every single one of which needs an entrance code – and those are changed daily. In addition to this, there are so many different routes and passages to the outside world that it is possible to be lost in them for the rest of your life – which will not be long considering the amount of guards patrolling these passages."

Joe thought for a moment, frowning. "But why are there so many guards?"

"Because this is a storage facility for many illegal items, such as weapons and computer systems that can hack into many government databases. It is also the base of a top-secret laboratory, where I conduct my work."

Joe whistled. "I guess if you have so many things together in one place, you better guard it well."

"Something seems wrong to me, Joe," George said, shaking her head. "I mean, the Assassins wouldn't put everything together in one place. They are known for being so widespread their own operatives don't know where everything is. And don't they change regularly? Moving an operation as big as this one will be near impossible."

"You're right," Joe agreed. "This _is_ strange."

"Pardon me," the professor said, "The uh… Assassins?"

"They're an international terrorist group," Joe explained. "They're the ones who kidnapped us."

The professor shook his head. "I doubt that. These people are Americans, every last one of them."

"It could just be an American base," Joe argued.

"My dear boy, believe me when I tell you that this organization is most assuredly not the 'Assassins'."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Simply the fact that the leader of this organization is my own blood brother."


	12. Message

**Chapter 12: Message**

Frank and Nancy were tired. It was already late at night, almost 24 hours after Joe, George and Bess had disappeared. They were in Frank's study, with him behind the desk and Nancy sitting on top of the desk next to him.

"Nothing," Frank sighed in frustration as he slammed down the phone. "The neighbors did not see anything, the traffic cameras did not see anything; nobody saw a darn thing!"

"Frank, calm down, honey," Nancy said softly, placing her hand on his fist. "Joe has disappeared many times before, and you've found him every time. You'll find him again."

"But it's never been like this," he protested, running his hands through his hair. "This time it's the Assassins. We have absolutely no clue where they are, or if they're even still alive." The worry was evident in his voice.

"Let's start afresh in the morning," Nancy said after a pause. "You haven't had more than a few hours of sleep in almost 40 hours."

Immediately after the phone call from the kidnappers, Frank had called the Gray Man. Frank was upset, to say the least, and after several minutes of him yelling at and blaming the Gray Man, Nancy had succeeded in taking the phone away from him. She calmly gave him all the information she had, and he had promised to call them back – provided they stayed in the house.

It was torture, sitting there doing nothing, but even the thought of helping was futile, as the Gray Man had sent four more Secret Service-like agents over to guard Mr. and Mrs. Frank Hardy. Frank had spent the entire day on the phone and the computer, calling everybody he knew who might be able to find out something, and checking satellite images and databases, but it was a fruitless search. Nancy had spent the day making coffee, keeping Iola from having a breakdown because of Joe's disappearance, and preventing Frank from attacking the Gray Man when he showed up with no news.

Now the agents were posted both around the house and inside, Iola was asleep once again, and Frank and Nancy were both drained emotionally.

"All right," Frank said and stood up. Just then, the phone rang. He snatched it up, and Nancy hastily pressed the speakerphone. "Yes?"

"Frank, this is Arthur Gray. One of the analysts just brought me something that was sort of forgotten in the day's excitement. It is the match for that blood sample you found in the professor's house. It seems it belonged to a man called Harry Stockholm. He's just a common thug for hire. Nothing interesting about him, _except_ that he has been missing for the last three months."

Frank and Nancy glanced at each other. "So how does that help us?" Nancy asked, confused.

"Hello, Nancy. At the moment I have all possible resources out looking for him. We believe that if we find him, we might find the kidnappers."

"So then you also think it's the same people that took the professor?" Frank wanted to know.

"Yes. I will call you the minute I know anything more."

The Gray Man ender the call, and there was a faint glimmer of hope in the young couple's eyes. "I'm just going to check my e-mail one last time," Frank said. "You go on ahead."

Nancy was halfway up the stairs when she heard Frank call her name excitedly. She rushed downstairs again and found him grinning like he had just won 'Who wants to be a millionaire'.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I got a message from Joe!"

Nancy rushed over, and Frank pointed out the message on the computer screen.

_**F: All safe. 274ParkAve NY underground room S2. Not Assassins. Explosives. One passenger. Be careful. J**_

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief as she scanned the words. "Thank goodness!" She reached towards the phone, but Frank grabbed her hand before she could pick it up. She looked at him curiously. "What?"

"I'm doing this alone," he said, and there was an edge to his voice that made Nancy realize that protest would be useless.

"I think you meant _we_ are doing this alone," she replied. "We're a team now, Frank."

Frank's gaze softened as he looked at Nancy's determined face. He took her hand and gently kissed her palm. "Let's go."

After a quick discussion, Frank gathered everything he thought they might need, while Nancy went to prepare one last pot of coffee for the agents. She quickly glanced around to make sure none of them were in sight, before adding a special ingredient: very strong, tasteless and smell less sleeping powders. Fifteen minutes afterwards, several Network agents were fast asleep around the house.

They were barely in the car when Frank's cellphone rang. He frowned at it before answering with, "Frank Hardy."

The phone was on speaker, and Nancy could hear every word. She did not recognize the voice.

"Hello Frank, this is Mathew Doyle speaking."

The name rang a vague bell somewhere in Frank's mind, and he glanced at Nancy quizzically. She mouthed to him, "Some politician running for mayor."

With raised eyebrows, Frank replied, "Yes sir, what can I do for you at this hour?"

"Yes, uh… I do apologize for the late hour, but I heard about your unfortunate situation and I wanted to offer my assistance. I doubted whether you would be asleep yet, and I took the risk of calling you."

"What…situation would that be, sir?"

"Why, the fact that your brother and some other friends have disappeared, of course."

Frank shot Nancy a look. The only people who knew about that were the Hardy's and the Network. "May I ask where you heard about this supposed disappearance, Mr. Doyle?"

The man laughed heartily. "I have my contacts, young man. And how I know is of lesser importance than the fact that I do know, and I wish to help you find them in any way I can."

"Thank you sir; we will keep that in mind and let you know if you can be of assistance."

Mathew Doyle seemed reluctant as he said, "That will be fine." He gave Frank his number before ending the call.

"That was weird," Nancy said.

"Yeah," her husband agreed before starting the car. "But we'll worry about this later. First we need to find Joe."

It was quite a long drive to New York, giving Frank and Nancy plenty of time to work out a way to get their friends and family out of there – whatever 'there' was. The 'underground' part was also a bit of a puzzle to them but they decided to take things one step at a time.

… … …

274 Park Avenue, NY was a hotel. It was the perfect place to place a hideout, as nobody would suspect any strange goings-on if people came and went the whole time. It was not such a perfect place, however, to find the entrance to the underground room.

Frank and Nancy discussed this problem while drinking coffee in the hotel dining room.

"If the entrance is in the hotel itself," Nancy said, "it would most likely be in a room that is rented to a single person or company, so that they have permanent access to it."

Frank got out his laptop from his backpack. "That will be easy enough to find out." A few minutes later, he nodded excitedly. "I think I found it. There's a conference room on the ground floor that is owned by…" His eyes widened. "Wow. Guess who owns the conference room!"

Nancy replied with a smile that she had no idea, and Frank said excitedly, "Mr. Mathew Doyle."

"Our mysterious politician!" Nancy's eyes were wide as the thoughts flew through her mind. "Do you think he could behind this thing? I mean, Joe did say that the kidnappers were not the Assassins."

"It's possible," Frank agreed. "It would explain why he was so anxious to help us. But I wonder what his motives are?"

"Frank, don't you think it would be a good idea to let the Gray Man know about him? Maybe they can find something."

"No," he said, shaking his head determinedly. "I want to do this on my own."

"But why?" Nancy asked.

"Because it's my fault!" Frank clenched his jaw. "I shouldn't have let him go alone!"

"Frank, you couldn't have known they were going to be kidnapped. Besides, Joe is perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

"Then why are they missing?"

"Because, my good husband, we're wasting time here arguing instead of trying to find them!"

Frank smiled, and then sighed. "You're right. Call the Gray Man and tell him to check out this Doyle guy, but don't tell him where we are or what we're doing here."

… … …

It was easy enough getting into the conference room, as the security code at the door was no match for Frank's hacking skills. The two sleuths immediately started looking around for the concealed entrance, knocking on panels and stomping on the floor. After ten minutes, they still had not found anything. Nancy sat down dismally on a barstool in the corner of a room.

"Find anything?" she asked Frank, who was looking closely at a particular panel. He sighed and turned around.

"No," he shook his head, and then frowned curiously. "Hey, what's that behind you?"

"What?" Nancy asked. She spun the chair around, and as she did so something clicked and the big panel behind her slid open. She looked at Frank with wide eyes, and then grinned. "Eureka!"

Behind the panel was a solid looking white door with a touch-screen computer in the middle. Frank was there in an instant. "It needs a fingerprint," he said. "See if you can find some prints anywhere, the kit is in my bag."

"Okay," Nancy said. Looking around, she found an empty glass sitting on the table. Using Frank's fingerprint set, she found a usable thumbprint and transferred it to a piece of tape.

"Thanks," Frank said as he took it from her. Both of them held their breaths as the computer scanned the print, and when it beeped and the door clicked open they could not contain their happy smiles.

Frank quickly took his gun from the bag before swinging it on his back again. "Stay behind me," he cautioned Nancy and slid the door open inch by inch. On the other side was an empty corridor stretching out left and right. They stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind them.

"Where to now?" Nancy whispered, her voice sounding strange.

Frank looked at her. "That's a very good question."


	13. Rescue

**Chapter 13: Rescue**

"How are you feeling?" George asked gently as Joe opened his eyes slightly.

"Like a train ran me over," he rasped, "and then reversed."

George smiled and smoothed Joe's hair from his face. "Yeah, you look like it."

"You look like Sylvester Stallone does after the fight in _Rocky_," Bess added. "One of the first ones, where they overkilled on the make-up.

"Now you're exaggerating," Joe groaned and tried to sit up. His whole body ached.

"Have you looked in a mirror recently?" Bess asked with raised eyebrows. When Joe shook his head, she scoffed. "Thought so."

"Guess these guys don't take kindly to somebody borrowing their computer," Joe said, attempting to grin but stopping when he the cut on his lip started stretching.

"I just hope Frank and Nancy got the message," George said worriedly.

"Me too."

"It will not make the slightest difference if they did receive your communication," the professor spoke up from where he was lying on his mattress. He had come back earlier on that day than usual, and had refused to say a word since then. "As I told you before, it is impossible to get out of here."

"You don't know my brother," Joe growled at the professor, whose persistent negative attitude was starting to get on his nerves. Just then, all four of their heads jerked up when they heard a sound of thumping at the door. It was late at night; there was no reason for the guards to come in now.

Joe tried to stand up, but George pushed him back. "Just stay down," she whispered. She went to stand behind the door, ready to jump somebody if she needed to.

The door swung open slowly, and her muscles tensed up. Then she saw a dark head appear. She was about to grab the person around the neck when –

"Frank!" Bess shouted. George relaxed instantly, and flew around the door. She expected to see the two guards crumpled on the floor, but the corridor was empty except for Frank and Nancy.

"Where are the guards?" she asked urgently after a brief, but happy, greeting.

"What guards?" Nancy asked, puzzled. Then she spotted Joe and sucked in a breath. "Oh, poor Joe! What happened to you?"

"This is what I got for breaking out of here and into a computer room," Joe grimaced. "Hey, guys."

"Can you walk?" Frank asked, concerned, as he strode over to his brother. "Because we have to leave ASAP."

"How are we going to get out of here? The place is teeming with guards," George frowned. She sneaked a glance at the empty hallway. "Or did the Network already sweep the place?"

"No, we're alone," Nancy said, glancing at Frank. "But everything's deserted. We didn't see anybody."

"That's weird," Joe said. With Frank's help, he got to his feet and took a few unsteady steps. "I think I'll manage, thanks," he added to his brother.

"I think I might be able to offer an explanation for that situation," the professor said. George quickly introduced him to the new arrivals, before asking him to explain. He continued, "As I might have mentioned before, the purpose of my being in this unfortunate place is that I was to create a scientific formula for my brother. I have tried to delay the completion of the project as long as possible, for I knew then as I know now; that they have naught but evil intentions for the formula. Unfortunately, I could not hold out forever and yesterday afternoon – for it is now well past midnight – I completed the project. They now have no further use for us or the facility."

"You mean they will just abandon us?" Bess asked.

"No, no," the professor shook his head. "Not abandon – destroy."

"Just as they did to the warehouse!" Joe said, his eyes wide.

"Wait a minute," Frank said, puzzled. "They? I thought the Assassins blew up that place. And did you say your _brother_ owns this one?"

"Uh, Frank?" Nancy said. "Why don't we leave the questions for later? I think we better get out of here _now_."

"It is hopeless," the professor said, returning to his mattress. "We will never escape."

Joe was fed up. "Listen here, wise guy; you are coming with us _now,_ if I have to knock you out and carry you myself!"

At this outburst the professor stood up reluctantly, and he followed the five young people as they ran – or stumbled, in Joe's case – out of the room. "I guess it does not matter if I die here or while trying to escape," he said, earning another annoyed look from Joe.

"This way," Nancy said. "It's where we came in."

"How exactly did you find us?" George asked, following her. Bess was right behind her, followed by the professor, and the two brothers brought up the rear.

"We found a map of this place in one of the offices," Nancy said, slightly out of breath as she turned a corner. She jerked back immediately and motioned to the others to be quiet. They all leaned against the wall, and Frank quickly joined his wife.

"What?" he mouthed. Nancy held up four fingers, and pointed the corner. With her thumb and forefinger, she then indicated that they were armed.

Frank frowned, his mind racing. These were probably the guys sent to make sure no evidence remained behind. He wondered where they were going, and if he and the others would be able to get out before the explosion.

It caught him by surprise when one of the men suddenly appeared around the corner, gun in his hand. Bess screamed, and a gunshot reverberated off the walls. Frank's reflexes had been just fast enough, though, and due to his kick the bullet hit the wall inches above Nancy's head. By now the other three men had appeared. Frank was fighting with Man 1 for his gun, while Nancy and George were each grappling with another one. Joe looked on helplessly, barely able to remain standing.

Man 1 gave Frank a hard blow in the stomach, but as he doubled over he twisted the man's arm. With a cry of pain, the thug let the gun clatter to the floor. Frank grabbed for it.

"Hold it!" a harsh voice rang out. Frank froze as he saw one of the other men holding Bess in a headlockwith his gun aimed at her head. Frank wanted to kick himself.

"Stevens, we meet again." Everybody was surprised to hear the professor's voice. The man holding Bess looked at him, and his eyes grew wide. When George glanced at the professor, she found him holding a small glass tube in front of him. John Hawkins' voice was determined when he said, "If you do not let us all go, I am going to let go of this tube. I doubt that you want that to happen, my good man."

"You're bluffing," the man called Stevens said, but his voice was shaky. "How do I know there's anything in that thing?"

"There is only one way to find the answer, Stevens. Do you really want to test me?"

Stevens swallowed, and a sweat broke out on his forehead. As the professor slowly walked closer, George could see that the tube was filled with what appeared to be a dark green gas. An uneasy feeling settled in on the pit of her stomach as she shared a glance with Nancy.

"You know as well as I do what is in this tube," the professor continued calmly. "And you know what will happen if it gets released."

"Stevens?" one of the other men, the one Frank had been fighting with, asked. "What is that thing?"

"Tell them, Stevens," the professor taunted. "Tell them about the Green Monster. Tell them how, if you inhale only one whiff of it, it burns up your insides like fire." John Hawkins gave a sad smile. "It is much like the other Green Monster. The name is quite…appropriate."

By now, the professor was right in front of Stevens. His gaze became as hard as steel as he said, "Now as I said, you either let us all go, or I drop the tube. What is it going to be, Stevens?"

Slowly Stevens released his grip on Bess and she rushed towards George and Nancy.

"Joe, Frank, girls; everybody start walking towards the door. I'll be right behind you."

"All four of you are going to stay here until we are safely out of the building," John said to the four criminals. He followed the five young people, quickly putting the tube in his pocket when out of eyesight. They were already within several feet of the exit when they heard loud voices, arguing. Frank and the professor exchanged hurried looks, before the older man called, "Run! Get out now!"

The words were barely out of his mouth when gunshots rang out once again. With a cry the professor sank to the ground. The girls, who had just reached the door, opened it and jumped out. Frank and Joe were behind them, and Frank quickly handed Joe his own gun.

"Cover me!" he commanded, and ran to the professor, keeping low to the ground. Joe fired a few shots at the end of the corridor, just to let them know they were armed themselves. When Frank reached the professor, he threw him over his shoulder despite painful protests and sprinted towards the door. Joe jumped through right behind him, slamming the door shut as he did so. They found only George on the other side in the conference room.

"Nancy and Bess have gone ahead to get everybody out of the hotel," she explained hurriedly. "If there is going to be an explosion…

She did not finish the sentence, and instead put her arm around Joe's waist to help him along as they ran for the hotel's exit. They met streams of people hastily going towards the doors. George had to force herself to go slowly, to not panic. _What if we can't get all these people out in time?_

The people were relatively calm, something that may be attributed to the fact that they were all still half asleep. Here and there, though, there was somebody who was screaming madly or bolting for the exits. After what seemed like ages, they were all safely outside in the frigid night air. Nancy and Bess quickly appeared and joined them.

"Did you call an ambulance?" Frank asked Nancy as he set the professor down on the sidewalk, some distance from the hotel. Joe also sank down with a groan, holding his bruised ribs.

"They're on their way," Nancy said, bending down. She opened the professor's shirt and winced when she saw the dark blood oozing from his side. She shot Frank a concerned glance. He wordlessly ripped off his own sweater, which was already stained with blood, and handed it to her. She pressed in into John Hawkins' side. He was pale, and his eyes were closed.

George knelt down next to the professor, the policewoman in her taking precedence over the impulse to let the poor man rest. They needed answers, before it was too late.

"Professor," she said softly, but urgently. His eyelids fluttered open. "We need to know what is in that tube. Is it a virus?"

He nodded weakly, and licked his lips. "Kills you…in 15 minutes."

George felt the blood drain from her face as she looked at Joe. Is that what the professor had been working on the whole time? "What is your brother planning on doing with it?"

"Don't know," he rasped. "Wouldn't…tell me."

"Who is your brother?" Frank asked urgently.

"Mathew Hawkins," he said softly.

"Do you have the antivirus?" George asked.

The professor gave a twisted smile. "There is no…antivirus. That is what makes it…so…perfect for him." As he closed his eyes for the last time, a tear slid out from under his eyelid, and flowed down his cheek.

A few hundred feet away, there was a muffled explosion from beneath the hotel.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The five young people were silent on the trip back home. The sun was already up, and they were extremely tired.

The Network had shown up not long after the explosion, and had quickly taken control of the situation. Needless to say, the Gray Man had not been pleased in the least that Frank and Nancy had a) sneaked out of their own house, b) not let him know what they were doing and c) tried to do anything at all.

Despite the fact that they were tired and a bit sad about the professor, they told the Gray Man everything. After that, they got into their car and drove home with one of the Network cars close behind them.

Nancy wearily opened the door to the house, only to be met with a shrill yell of excitement.

"Nancy! You're back!" Iola came bounding down the stairs in a frilly nightgown, not at all looking like she had just woken up. "Oh, I've been so worried. Have you found… Joe!"

Seeing the blonde guy stumble through the door, Iola rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around him. Joe groaned at the impact, and immediately reached out to steady himself against the doorframe. Iola pulled back and gasped.

"Oh! What happened to you?" tears jumped into her eyes, and she reached out towards Joe again. He looked at her with a dazed expression, partly due to fatigue and partly due to the painkillers he had been given by the Network men. The medic had declared him badly bruised, but nothing was broken.

"He got beaten up," George said coldly, stepping in between them. She put her arm around Joe's waist gently and helped him upright. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"But what happened?" Iola asked, doing her best to appear forlorn as she watched George helping Joe up the stairs.

Frank closed the door behind Bess, the last one to enter, locking it.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," he said firmly. He waited until she walked up the stairs with Bess, who was rooming with George for the time being, right behind her before switching off the light. He put his arm around Nancy's shoulders and sighed.

"Tired?" she asked. He could hear the smile in her voice as they climbed the stairs in the dark.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"I told you we would find them, you know," she said as they reached their bedroom door.

He looked down at Nancy's face and then kissed her cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."

… … …

The next few days were relatively quiet. They mainly rested and, in Joe's case, recovered, while the Network tried to sort out the mess.

The one significant break in the peace, however, was when Joe and George had a talk with Iola. They had told her in no uncertain terms that they were engaged and intended to remain so, and it would be best for her if she just accepted that fact. George was tempted to add "and keep your hands to yourself" but she managed to bite her tongue.

On the first day that George allowed Joe to get out of bed again, the four friends decided it was time for a review of the case. Bess had already gone back home, and Iola was lying down with a headache when they sat down around the kitchen table once again.


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter is mine. I hope you like this chapter. Sorry it took me so long to update.**

* * *

As they sat around the table, they discussed the mission and what had happened over the last few days.

"Don't you think you should just back off the case for a little bit?" George asked, primarily singling out Joe.

"What!" Nancy and Joe exclaimed.

"I mean… I meant Joe." George said weakly. "Every time I turn around, he…" She couldn't continue for the tears streaming down her cheeks. Joe moved over beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Frank and Nancy just sat there.

"I'm alright, George." Joe tried to sooth her. "I'm right here."

"But what if next time you're not here." She pulled back and looked him in the eye. "What if the next time you're dead?" She wiped the tears from her eyes and took the handkerchief that Joe offered her.

"George is right." Everyone stared at Frank.

"Frank?" Nancy looked at him puzzled. "Are you ok?"

"I know how George feels." he said with a shrug. "My brother disappearing. Not knowing if he's alive or dead. The fear of one day finding him not here."

"But Frank…" Joe started. Frank held up a hand to silence his brother.

"Maybe you should rest. Just a couple days." Frank said. Joe looked from his brother, to Nancy, to George then back again.

"Please, Joe." George whispered. Joe met George's eyes.

"Ok." He said with a defeated look. "But only for a few days to get you all off my back." He leaned back in his chair and looked at his brother. Frank sent him an unreadable look. He nodded his head. Frank nudged Nancy and they left the room. When they were on the front porch Nancy leaned against the railing.

"How do you do it?" Nancy whispered. Her back was to him. He leaned on the railing with her.

"What?"

"Your brother." She looked at him and smiled. "We would have never convinced him if you weren't there." rank shook his head.

"I didn't convince him." Frank said as he pushed off from the porch.

"What do you mean?" She said turning to face him

"Joe won't stay down."

"I don't get it." She watched as Frank paced back and forth.

"Joe is going to be Joe." Frank stopped and looked at her. "My brother will stay on the case. With or without our say." He finished in a whisper.

"Frank?" She walked over to him and touched his arm. He looked at her.

"Joe will investigate without us."

"Frank. Your brother isn't…" She stopped at the look Frank sent her.

"Nancy." He interrupted her sternly, shaking her hand off his arm.. "You wouldn't understand." Frank walked off the porch.

"Frank?" she called after him tears silently trailing down her cheeks.

"I'll be back in a few." She watched as her husband walked down the sidewalk and out of sight. She wiped the tears from her cheeks then she turned and went inside. Joe was standing by the living room window.

"Where'd Frank go?"

"I don't know." Nancy replied as she sat on the couch.

"He worries too much." Joe said as he walked away from the window.

"He's your brother. He's supposed to."

"He has other things he should worry about." Joe said rolling his eyes. "Not me."

"Like what?" Nancy asked.

"You. Your future family. His job. And tons of other things." Joe said with a shrug.

"Joe." Nancy said cautiously.

"I'm going upstairs." Joe said heading upstairs.

"Men!" Nancy stood up and went to the kitchen. "I'll bake cookies." She said to herself. "Maybe that will help everybody's moods." She then set about collecting the ingredients.

* * *

Frank walked until it started getting dark. He looked around trying to get his bearings. Then, the picture of Nancy standing on the porch crying continued to pierce through his memory.

"Frank." He mumbled to himself. "What have you done?" Sure, He and Nancy had had their disagreements. However, he had never just stormed off and left her standing alone. The urgency to get home and make things right overtook him as he started heading back the way he had come. He looked around, not recognizing anything.

"Frank Hardy." A voice chuckled. Frank looked around trying to find the source. "Looks like you came unprepared to fight." A dark figure pounced out of the shadows and tackled him. Frank and the masked figure fought, each trying to overpower the other. Then the figure pulled out a knife, the blade glistening in the dimming light.

"You are too much trouble, Hardy." The person muttered. Frank could feel the knife as the peson pressed it against his throat. "And when I'm done with you. Your nosey wife and brother are next."


End file.
